


One Dimension Removed

by tafkar



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Stargate SG-1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tafkar/pseuds/tafkar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sha're's husband Daniel Jackson and brother Skaara are abducted from Abydos by the Goa'uld Amaunet. To fight for their return, Sha're must join the newly created Stargate Command. But can Sha're become the woman she will need to be to get them back? (AU from approximately three minutes into Children of the Gods.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sha’re stood, surrounded by corpses, some distance from the _chappa’ai_ — _no, the_ _Stargate,_ she thought to herself, _that’s what Daniel always called it_. Hands shaking as it began to turn again, she aimed her gun at it just as her brother had learned from O’Neill. The last time it had opened, she’d been paralyzed with fear. This time she was ready.

Daniel had made her hide the last time the Stargate opened. She’d watched from behind the wall, breath short and shallow, as one of the aliens ( _not gods_ , she told herself firmly, remembering what Daniel had taught her) had taken Daniel and her brother. “A perfect host,” Sha’re had heard her say about Daniel, just before they’d walked through the circle of rippling blue, as if they’d walked into a mirage on the horizon. 

The Stargate rumbled again and gave out a sudden roar. Sha’re suddenly remembered how it dissolved everything in its wake, and quickly hit the ground, keeping a death-grip on the gun in her hands, not taking her eyes off the portal for a second. A glossy surge leapt out at her, cold as the desert winds in mid-winter, breathing icy death above her head. It snapped back behind the Stargate for a moment, then settled into a rippling pool.

She stared at it, watching to see what would happen next, the tip of her gun shaking. Suddenly something hurtled through. She fired. The gun’s noise roared in the room almost as loudly as the Stargate had, echoing off the walls. Her bullets chipped away at the stone floor, shifting the crumpled corpses of her friends in a parody of life as they penetrated. 

More quickly than it had opened, the Stargate closed. 

Trembling, she lowered the gun. She stared at the box at her feet, which, she thought bitterly, was likely the one thing in the room she had _not_ struck with a bullet. Crouching down slowly, she picked it up.

It was blue, with a flower pattern. Sticking from the top was something white. She touched it. It was the softest paper she’d ever felt in her life, just like the paper Daniel had once used to wipe his nose. 

There was only one person that would have sent such a thing between the worlds, Sha’re knew. She looked at the Stargate, hope stealing into her heart.

Quickly, she dug into the supplies she and Daniel had uncovered at midwinter, and found the wide pen labeled “Sharpie.” In her most careful block letters, the ones she’d learned from Daniel, she wrote a message on the box.

PLEASE. SEND HELP.

Box in hand, she walked over to the stone plinth, the one with the symbols and the dome in the center. Sha’re reached out, and then hesitated, feeling a knot of panic tighten in her chest.

Daniel would know what to do. Daniel would do this correctly. What if she made a mistake? What if it didn’t work? What if she hadn’t gotten her letters right, and her message offended them? What if she accidentally pressed the buttons she had seen the alien woman’s soldier touch, instead of the ones Daniel had taught her, and sent the message to the ones who had taken Daniel, instead of Jack O’Neill? She pressed her hand against her chest, her heart fluttering as if it would escape, and everything blurred in front of her eyes.

She never knew how long she stood there. In the rush of everything that happened after, she never had the time to ask Jack how long he’d waited for an answer, and then her life changed so much she barely even remembered the frightened person who had stood in front of the DHD. But finally, Sha’re took a deep breath and reached out her left hand to press the first button.

She touched the symbols one by one, touching the glyphs that Daniel had once told her would lead to Earth. Then she placed her hand on the orange dome and held her breath. 

The roar came again, and the center of the Stargate rushed through the room before snapping into place. Thinking of the story of the lost little boy who tied a message to the leg of a lizard and hoped someone would find it, Sha’re threw the box at the rippling puddle, holding her breath as it went through. Moments later the whole room seemed to take a breath as the Stargate closed.

A weight lifted from Sha’re’s shoulders. Jack O’Neill and his men would know what to do. They would get Daniel and Skaara back. She sat back on her heels and waited.

 

> ### Mission report, Colonel Jack O’Neill, February 17, 1997
> 
> We advanced through the Stargate to Abydos approximately one hour after we received the message.  When we arrived, we learned from Dr. Jackson’s wife, Sha’re, that a Goa’uld had abducted her husband and her brother and killed many of the boys who had been assisting Dr. Jackson in his work.  We later learned the Goa’uld’s name was Amaunet.
> 
> According to Mrs. Jackson, her husband suspected that the inbound wormhole was of hostile origin.  He told his wife to conceal herself and insisted that if he were abducted or killed she contact the SGC to inform us of everything he had learned.
> 
> Since Mrs. Jackson was the only person who knew the symbols for the planet where the captives had been taken, and the only person with any familiarity with the language the Goa’uld speak, I determined she would be an asset to the mission…
> 
>  
> 
> ### Mission report, Captain Samantha Carter, February 17, 1997
> 
> The chamber which Sha’re Jackson led us to had been discovered by her husband. This chamber contained thousands of Stargate addresses (as seen in the video freeze-frames contained in the appendix of this report).  During debriefing, it was learned that Mrs. Jackson was in possession of log books that Dr. Jackson had kept about his discoveries. 
> 
> After a lengthy discussion with General Hammond, it was determined that, as the language used by Mrs. Jackson’s people during times of worship was similar to that spoken by the Goa’uld, she would be an asset on our mission to Chulak…
> 
> ### Mission report, Sha’re Jackson (transcribed by Captain Carter), February 19, 1997
> 
> Unfortunately, I did not fully understand what the monks said to us upon our arrival until it was too late.  When they inquired if we were seeking hosts, they were not asking us if we wished to be guests at the ritual taking place; they were instead asking if we were Goa’uld looking for new human bodies for our offspring.
> 
> When my husband entered the feasting room to which we had been brought, I did not realize his body had already been taken by the Goa’uld Apophis. (As Apophis and Amaunet were also Egyptian gods, we should assume that there may be many Goa’uld, impersonating many different gods, perhaps from pantheons other than the Egyptian. Please refer to the list of potential Goa’uld in the appendix to this report.) I attempted to gain his attention. Apophis used a small, hand-held device to throw me against a wall, rendering me unconscious.
> 
> I returned to consciousness in a large cell, to which my brother, Colonel O’Neill Captain Carter, and many other people had been taken. Shortly after the doors opened to admit a number of Goa’uld, including Amaunet and Apophis, we learned that some of us would be chosen to be hosts for the Goa’uld; the rest would be sentenced to death.
> 
> It is difficult to determine which might be the worse fate…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brass is pushing Jack to replace Sha're on SG-1, and he's starting to think they're right. Can she prove her worth to the team, or will she forever lose her opportunity to find Daniel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As they trudged forward, he considered his Sha’re problem. The brass were pushing to replace SG-1’s “anthropologist” with an American with a doctorate, and Hammond was passing along the pressure. On that first wild mission, Jack had promised Sha’re he would help her get her husband back. He’d promised her a slot on the team. But the role of “alien culture expert” was a polite fiction, and everyone knew it. Sha’re didn’t have the experience that Daniel had. She was an expert in alien cultures only because she was from an alien culture.
> 
> But Sha’re had two things going for her – she could translate the language the Abydonians spoke, which seemed to be a variant of the basic lingua franca of the universe, and she could read hieroglyphs. Jack was willing to take the risk in order to keep her skill set on the team. Hammond argued that Teal’c, though not as verbose, was just as well equipped to perform those tasks if needed. The General wanted them to replace Sha’re with the Army’s anthropologist on the next mission. Jack still hadn’t figured out how he was going to break the news to Sha’re.

**_Four weeks later_ **

Jack took a deep breath of the alien air as he descended the steps from the Stargate, expecting it to smell unfamiliar. Instead it just had that general pine-and-earth smell, the same kind of scent he’d expect if he were on the outskirts of any forest that was heavy on the evergreens and light on the deciduous trees. He sighed.

“Something wrong, sir?” Captain Carter said, looking around brightly at the grassy clearing around them. 

Brown, dead pine needles crunched beneath Jack’s feet. He picked up a handful.  Yup, pine needles, just like he would have found back home. The chirping of the birds even sounded familiar, like what he’d hear in the Rocky Mountains. The birds he’d heard when he did his tour at Misawa in Japan had sounded more alien. What a letdown. “I dunno, Carter,” he said.  “I was just expecting alien worlds to be…you know. Alien.”

“Well, if the Goa’uld brought people to all these worlds, they probably brought the plants they were familiar with, too,” Carter replied.

“What do you think, Mrs. Jackson?” Jack asked, turning to their resident alien-cultures expert. “Mrs. Jackson?” he said again.

She didn’t respond. She stared around the forest, eyes wide and darting, stock-still, looking like a scared rabbit. She’d been so late to the Gate room this morning, Jack had to send Carter to get her. Though Daniel Jackson had taught her formal, academic English on Abydos, he apparently hadn’t taught her how to read a watch, or the concept of “on time.”

“Sha’re,” Jack said, his weariness coming through in his voice. 

Her eyes snapped to him and she blinked rapidly. “Jack – sir?” she stammered.

“Carter says the reason this planet and Chulak and Earth have the same plants is because the Goa’uld brought them when they brought the people. What do you think?” Jack asked.

He could see the panic flaring in her eyes, like a college student walking into a final after a semester goofing off. “Ah – well. The history of your planet indicates that colonists frequently brought their own flora with them,” she blurted. Her eyes darted between him and Sam, as if judging their reactions. “Many of these…these species thrived in their new places, because they were more competitive than the native plants.” She slowed to a stop.

Jack waited. “And?” he asked.

She blinked at him. “Well, that could have happened here,” she said.

It was the kind of answer he’d come to expect from Sha’re. It was full of information she’d obviously heard from Jackson, recited almost by rote, but there wasn’t any spin that indicated she was drawing her own conclusions from it. “Carter?” he said.

Carter was already moving forward through the glade. “Don’t ask me, sir,” she said. “I’m a physicist, not a botanist.”

“Teal’c?” Jack asked. The big man just raised an eyebrow at him. “Right,” Jack said. “Let’s see if we can find some people.” He looked around for a path, but none was evident. A settlement would either be located downhill, in some sort of river valley, or uphill, giving villagers sweeping views and strategic advantages. Jack was a big fan of sweeping views. “Thataway,” he said, pointing up the hill.

As they trudged forward, he considered his Sha’re problem. The brass were pushing to replace SG-1’s “anthropologist” with an American with a doctorate, and Hammond was passing along the pressure. On that first wild mission, Jack had promised Sha’re he would help her get her husband back. He’d promised her a slot on the team. But the role of “alien culture expert” was a polite fiction, and everyone knew it. Sha’re didn’t have the experience that Daniel had. She was an expert in alien cultures only because she was _from_ an alien culture. 

But Sha’re had two things going for her – she could translate the language the Abydonians spoke, which seemed to be a variant of the basic _lingua franca_ of the universe, and she could read hieroglyphs. Jack was willing to take the risk in order to keep her skill set on the team. Hammond argued that Teal’c, though not as verbose, was just as well equipped to perform those tasks if needed. The General wanted them to replace Sha’re with the Army’s anthropologist on the next mission. Jack still hadn’t figured out how he was going to break the news to Sha’re.

“Jack – sir?” Sha’re said softly, correcting herself, just like she had the last umpteen times she’d addressed him.

“What?” Jack asked, sounding sharp even to his own ears.

Sha’re’s eyes got wider, but she continued. “I wondered if we should investigate that noise.”

“What noise?” Sam asked.

Sha’re looked at Carter and Jack quizzically. “You cannot hear it?” she asked.

“The only sounds I hear are those we make,” Teal’c said. 

Sha’re’s eyes narrowed at the sound of his voice. “It’s that way,” she said, pointing slightly to the right of their heading, for once the timidity gone from her voice.

“I still hear nothing,” Teal’c said. 

Sha’re’s lips pressed tightly against each other. “I cannot help it if you are hard of hearing,” she said tartly.

And that was the other problem. Despite everything Teal’c had done to get them out of that Goa’uld prison and away from Amaunet and Apophis, Sha’re still saw the big former First Prime as the man who had abducted Daniel and handed him over to become Apophis’ new host. Jack didn’t actually think she would frag him, but the undercurrent of hostility would do nothing for team morale.

“We’ll try that way,” Jack said, pointing in the direction Sha’re had indicated. “Can’t hurt.”

After they’d hiked up the hill a couple hundred more yards, Carter said, “Wait, I hear it, too.” 

It took another hundred yards for Jack to catch it over the sound of chirping birds, and another twenty after that before he realized what it was. “That’s a baby,” he said.

There was another glade up ahead. As they came to the edge of the tree line, Jack brought his unit to a halt and looked through his field glasses. It took him a moment before he found it. “It’s an infant,” Jack said. “It’s out there in the grass.”

“I see no signs of a parent or other caretaker,” Teal’c said.

“You mean someone just _left_ it – oh, no,” Carter said, as the realization hit her.

“Yup,” Jack said, folding up his field glasses. “Let’s go get it.”

He was shouldering his pack when he heard Sha’re say quietly, “I do not think this is a good idea.”

“Why?” Jack asked, sparing her a glance as he scouted the territory.

“If the baby has been left here, whoever did it probably had a good reason,” Sha’re said coolly. “We now know there are humans on the planet. We can circle around through the woods, find the trail that person left when they brought the baby here, and follow it back to find the settlement.”

Jack stared at her for a minute. “We’re gonna leave the baby here? Are you _nuts_?” he asked.

“What good reason could a family have to abandon a baby?” Carter asked in obvious dismay.

Sha’re looked startled, eyes darting back and forth between them like they were the ones that were crazy. The birds in the trees had stilled, save for one lonely crow’s caw. “Perhaps the mother died. Perhaps they are starving and cannot feed another child. There may be a sickness in the village.”

“I have heard of such things,” Teal’c said in his slow, deep, calm tones. If he noticed how Sha’re eyed him with resentment when he spoke, he didn’t show it.

“And none of those are a reason for _us_ to leave a baby here,” Jack snapped, fed up with Sha’re’s arguments. “No more discussion.”

“Perhaps someone is watching,” Sha’re said doggedly. “Perhaps this is a test, or a ritual. We do not know.”

“Well, if they’re watching, they’d better act soon,” Carter said, her field glasses focused on something creeping across the clearing. “Sir, there’s something moving in for the kill.”

“Time to move,” Jack said, gripping his MP5 and walking through the knee-high grass. Sha’re raced after him and grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. “I said we’re done,” Jack snapped, shaking her off. She stood in front of him.

“If an animal kills the child, they will blame the animal. If someone sees you touch the child and it dies, they may blame _you_ ,” she said angrily, jabbing at his chest with two fingers.  “They would have in my village.”

“In _your_ village?” Jack said angrily. “You’re tellin’ me you did this on Abydos? Did _you_ do this?”

“Only because there was no other choice,” Sha’re snapped back.

“There’s _always_ a choice!” Jack thundered. Shouldering her aside, he moved toward the child, Carter at his heels. No baby was going to die on his watch.  He moved forward to get a better angle on the large-eared, sharp-toothed, wolflike animal that was stalking the baby, sighting on it through the MP5’s scope.

“Jack, _don’t_ ,” Sha’re yelled.

Jack fired. He saw the force of the bullet lift the animal off its feet, hurling it into the grass and exposing its white underbelly. Letting the gun hang from the strap around his neck, the sound of the bullet still ricocheting around the clearing, he ran toward the baby and lifted it off the grass, intent on grabbing it before the predator’s friends could come along.

Suddenly, all around the glade, figures sprang out from the trees, covered in primitive but effective camouflage that made them look half-plant. They held bows and arrows and long reeds, all of which were aimed at Jack and his team. Angry shouts came from every corner. Jack realized that cawing crow that had been above their heads probably hadn’t been a crow at all.

“So,” Jack said flatly to Carter, “not abandoned.”

“I guess not, sir,” Carter said, sounding dazed.

Jack sighed. “Lower your weapon, Captain,” he said as the figures came closer. “Let’s try to salvage this.”

“We’re sorry!” Sha’re shouted to the crowd, holding her hands up above her head. “We were afraid the child was in danger.” Carter lifted her hands above her head, as did Teal’c. Jack couldn’t – his arms were full of baby – but he did his damndest to look non-threatening. Sha’re shouted apologies again, although this time they sounded differently accented.

A man with the size and the general look of a Sumo wrestler, moved toward them with a speed that belied his bulk. His face was red with anger, and Jack could see the whites of his eyes all around the irises. He snatched the child out of Jack’s arms with a murderous look, poked him once bruisingly hard in the chest, then nodded at the men with the long reeds aimed at them. Jack heard a _wfff_ , and felt a sharp sting in his neck.

“Son of a –“ he said, reaching up to swat the dart. His hand was loose and unmanageable, and his knees suddelnly folded under him. He collapsed to the grass. 

The last thing he heard was Sha’re’s pleading voice. “Please!” she said. “We wanted only to protect the child!”

 

Sha’re was afraid for Jack. _Colonel O’Neill_ , she mentally corrected herself as she sat in the corner of the cell she shared with Captain Carter and Teal’c, knees pulled up to her chest, flipping her pen between her fingers like a worry bone. The aliens had been angry when they took him away, and nothing she’d said seemed to sway them. She didn’t know what they were doing, but her mind conjured up the most terrifying images.

She kept flipping her pen between the fingers of her left hand, rolling it from the back of one finger to the back of the next, back and forth, as she tried to think of a way out of the situation. She could never think unless she was doing something with her hands. _What would Daniel have done?_ she wondered.

Back and forth, back and forth, the pen went through her fingers until she lost her grip. Its momentum sent it flying through the air, across the wood-framed, earth-floored room they sat in. It landed between Captain Carter’s feet.

Sha’re ducked her head. “Sorry,” she said.

Carter tossed the pen back to her. Sha’re caught it between her hands, wincing as the fingers of her bruised right hand touched her left. 

“Are you all right, Sha’re Jackson?” Teal’c asked from where he stood near the door.  Sha’re wanted to kick him, just on general principle, but she settled for a scowl. She still did not understand why Jack invited him to join the team. One right decision did not overturn a lifetime of wrongs. In her nightmares, Teal’c turned the team over to Amaunet. In her waking hours, she eyed him suspiciously for signs of betrayal.

“You took a couple of good hits there,” Carter said to Sha’re. “When we get back, I want you to start on a little hand-to-hand training.”

Sha’re nodded, looking toward the door. She could hear faint voices outside, coming toward them. “When they were dragging us here, I could understand every word they said. I think I will be able to translate.”

Carter gave her a perplexed look. “I understood everything they said too,” she said.

“As did I,” Teal’c said.

Sha’re shook her head. “You can – but this is another world. It does not make sense that you would understand what they say.”

Carter shrugged. “Maybe it has to do with the Stargate. After we came back from Abydos and Chulak I fine-tuned it so we wouldn’t come out covered with icicles. Maybe now it has some kind of universal translator effect as well.”

Sha’re closed her eyes, resting her forehead on her pulled-up knees. One of the only arguments for having her on the team was that _she_ might be able to act as translator when they met aliens. If the Stargate translated their words for them, what reason would they have to keep her on SG-1? And without her on the team, would anyone really search for Daniel and Skaara?

Before Sha’re could sink further into despair, they heard footsteps coming to the door. Carter pushed herself off the ground, brushing off the back of her pants. Sha’re did the same, and tried to stick to the shadows.

The door opened. Two men as large as Teal’c marched into the cell, followed by the even larger man who had poked Jack in the chest earlier. There seemed to be almost no room for air. The leader’s broad chest was bare except for a rough cloth sash; another patterned piece of fabric wrapped around his waist and dangled to his knees. His black eyes locked on Sha’re.

“You,” he said. “You will explain this to us. If your explanation is good enough, we may let the man live.” 

“Excuse me,” Carter said, stepping in front of them. “I’m in charge here. I’m the one you should negotiate with.”

The large man tossed his long black hair behind his shoulders. “If that man had not killed our totem, you would have,” he said. He gestured with his chin at Teal’c. “That one wears the mark of the Jaffa. You are lucky we choose to negotiate at all.”

 _I cannot do this,_ Sha’re thought, her entire body suddenly icy cold. She knew that in her place, Daniel would know exactly the right thing to say to fix the situation. But he would have known exactly what to say to Jack and they never would have gotten into this situation in the first place. Her hands trembled.

“Mrs. Jackson?” Carter said.

It took Sha’re a second to react to the still-unfamiliar name. _Oh, that’s me_ , she thought with a start. She took a deep breath. “I would be honored to represent our unit,” she said, relieved that she’d remembered the military term. 

The large men stepped away from the door and gestured for them to walk through. Several more guards stood outside the door. Sha’re wasn’t sure if they thought an unarmed SG-1 was really that dangerous or if it was some sort of honor guard.

Carter matched her pace. “Hey,” she said in a low voice. “You’ve got experience with this, right? Colonel O’Neill said your father had sent you to negotiate with other tribes on your planet.”

“Absolutely,” Sha’re said. “You need not worry.” Now was not the time to tell Captain Carter that she’d merely accompanied her father to cook and clean for him during the tribal negotiations. Perhaps Sha’re would tell her a month from now, or two.

 _What would Daniel do?_ Sha’re thought to herself as they walked. By the time they got to the long, low wooden building that was their destination, she thought she had her answer.

The large man seated himself upon a reed mat that lay on a platform in the center of the room. Beams of light came through strategically placed windows and skylights, illuminating him. Two of his guards pulled Carter and Teal’c to either side of the platform, pushing firmly on their shoulders to get them to kneel, while several more arrayed themselves behind their leader, squatting on their heels. The chief gestured to Sha’re.

Sha’re squatted, mirroring the pose of the warriors behind the large man, and bowed her head slightly to him in greeting. “My name is Sha’re Jackson,” she began. “These are my companions, Captain Samantha Carter and Teal’c.” She gestured to her teammates. 

The leader nodded. She paused for a moment to see if he would give them any information in exchange. He stayed silent; she would have to offer more to earn reciprocation. She took a deep breath.

“The man you have imprisoned, Colonel Jack O’Neill, is our leader. He is a very good leader, and very protective of children. His actions were only meant to keep the child from harm,” Sha’re said.

The leader still stared at her with black eyes, unmoved. She had to make a better case. “On his planet,” Sha’re said, thinking furiously, “there is a tribe that abandons excess female children in the wild. They leave them to be eaten by –“ she tried to remember the name of one of the fierce Earth animals Daniel had told her of “- land sharks.”

Captain Carter made a choking noise and began to cough.

“As you can tell from Captain Carter’s reaction,” Sha’re said, “these animals are quite fearsome. Unfortunately, these land sharks — “ Carter choked again “ — bear a strong resemblance to your totem animal, and Jack was afraid the people of your planet practiced the same ritual. He intended to take responsibility for the child.”

The leader folded his fleshy arms, staring at her sternly. “And is he still willing to take responsibility for the child?”

The man’s questions followed a familiar pattern. Sha’re suspected they would either be going home with an additional, very small member of SG-1, or the child would be receiving a very large dowry. “What sort of responsibility were you considering?” Sha’re asked, wanting to give nothing away.

The leader gestured with one hand. “Whatever creature besides the parents first touches the child passes on its greatest skill to the child. The _ookami_ would have given our child the strength to battle our fiercest enemy.” He rested his hands on his knees. “We must know what skill your Jack has that will be passed on to the child.”

 

Jack rubbed at his rope-burned wrists, trying to get some of the feeling back into his hands as the guard tossed the rough cord away. It was going to take weeks to get the prickly splinters out of his skin. “Run that by me again?” Jack asked Sha’re.

“We’re going to kill the animal that is terrorizing these people,” Sha’re said.

“And we’re doing this _why_?” Jack asked.

Sha’re sighed impatiently. “The Aotans had trained the _ookami_ — “ Jack gave her a look, and she corrected herself, rolling her eyes. “ — as you named it, the _wolf-thing_ to touch the baby but not hurt it. It is a birth ritual. The first creature other than the parents to touch the child imbues it with essential characteristics. They wanted their child to have the strength and ferociousness of the _wolf-thing_.” Jack could hear air-quotes in her voice on the last word.

“Stacking the deck a little bit there, isn’t it?” Jack eyed the guard, who ignored him.

Sha’re ignored Jack, too. “Because you were the first one to touch the infant,” Sha’re continued, “they wish to learn what your skills are, so they will know what will become of their child.”

The big guy put one hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Walk,” he said.

The guy was built like a Sumo wrestler. Jack walked. “And?” Jack asked Sha’re, who trotted double-time to keep up with them. They emerged into the village center.

“Despite our best arguments, they felt that sarcasm could not be regarded as a skill,” Sha’re said. Jack couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. “When we learned that they were being terrorized by a creature left behind by the Goa’uld who had once occupied this world, it seemed to me we could wash the clothing and the baby with the same water.”

Jack shook his head. “You mean, kill two birds with one stone?”

Sha’re looked confused. “There’s only one of it. And it’s not a bird. It is a kind of giant, four-legged thing.” She drew a vague shape in the air that could have been a crocodile or a VW bus. From across the courtyard, he could see Carter and Teal’c walking toward them, looking determined. Sha’re kept talking. “It seemed that by exterminating this creature, we could resolve their problem and also demonstrate the characteristics you might pass on to their child.”

Jack turned to Carter, who had just walked up to them. “Carter. You think we can do this?”

“Sir, our bullets have a lot more force behind them than their bows and arrows. I think we’ll be fine,” she said confidently.

Jack nodded. “Teal’c, any idea what this thing is that got left behind?”

Teal’c shook his head. “I could not determine what Goa’uld they spoke of. The creature they describe was unfamiliar to me.”

Another guard handed Jack his MP5 and pack. Jack checked to make sure his weapon was fully loaded. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

The guards led them downhill through the forest. Jack swore he heard crows cawing in the trees and saw jays flying across their path. After what must have been two or three miles, the trees thinned out. Jack could see grassy bluffs beneath them and a crashing sea beyond. 

He heard Sha’re gasp. “Is that all water beyond the cliff?” she asked, sounding awed.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “It’s the ocean.” As they crept forward in the wake of the two Aotans who led them, Jack whispered to Carter, “I want my money back. This looks just like Big Sur. Next time I go to an alien planet, I want something _really_ alien.”

The Aotans stopped and signaled SG-1 to do the same. “This is as far as we go,” one man said.

Jack looked around. There were trees above them on the hill, grass and ocean below, some scattered wildflowers, and a cow placidly chewing its cud in the field. If it were any more pastoral, it would have been on a Hallmark card. “Okay,” he said. “Where do we go to find this big bad wolf of yours?”

As the guard backed up, still staying low to the ground, he pointed at the cow. “That is it,” he said.

“That?” Carter said incredulously. Jack was right with her.

The terrified Aotan nodded, then sped back toward the treeline with his fellow tribesman.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Jack said, pulling out his field glasses.

Sha’re squinted at it. “It seems large,” she whispered. “Is it not fearsome?”

Jack peered through his field glasses, then let them drop to his chest as he stood up. “It’s a _cow_ ,” he said. He began marching down the hill. “I don’t know what these guys are trying to pull on us.”

“Colonel O’Neill,” Teal’c said.

Jack ignored him. “I grew up in Minnesota, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s cows.”

“Sir, I thought it was Wisconsin that had all the cows,” Carter said, right on his heels, amusement in her voice. 

“And this,” said Jack, “is a brown-eyed, grass-grazing, milk-producing, strip-sirloin-to-be cow!” He stopped ten yards away from the cow and stared at it.

The cow looked up from the grass it was grazing on with red eyes that would have fit better on a vampire. And that wasn’t all. Jack realized his brain, expecting a smaller beast, was playing tricks. The thing was about twenty yards away, not ten, which meant it was a lot larger than your average Holstein. Its lips pulled back to reveal rows of white teeth, like a shark’s. The mooing sound it made shook the ground. Jack had heard less threatening wolves. 

“For cryin’ out loud,” Jack said. He took out his gun and fired, but the bullets didn’t penetrate. Instead, they bounced off the body of the cow – the rabid, threatening, bulletproof, obviously man-eating cow. Jack could see now that what had looked like fur at a distance was actually scales. The cow scuffed one hoof in the dirt, just like the bull in the Bugs Bunny cartoons.

“Colonel O’Neill!” Teal’c shouted urgently. “I suggest we run!”

“Move, kids!” Jack shouted. Sha’re was already sprinting. Carter caught up with her, turning to provide covering fire. But the damn cow — the rabid, bulletproof, speedy and obviously _intelligent_ man-eating cow — vaulted up the hill ahead of them, cutting them off and herding them down the incline.

“You said you wanted something really alien, sir,” Carter shouted when Jack caught up with her.

“Thanks, Carter,” Jack said, turning to fire at it. It shook the bullets off. Jack had the feeling the vicious cow was toying with them. “Never gonna let me live that down, are ya?”

Carter, Sha’re and Teal’c also turned and shot, converging on the cow-shark-thing with all the firepower they had. The cow stopped for a second. 

“O’Neill, I have heard of this creature. It was created by Nirrti,” Teal’c said. Even he, with the superior Jaffa stamina, was breathless. “She forced Jaffa who displeased her to do combat with it. No Jaffa ever left alive.”

“ _Now_ you tell me!” Jack said. 

The cow began to move again. Jack surveyed the landscape and had an idea. Pointing down the hill, he said, “Head for the cliffs, and spread out!”

As they ran toward the cliffs, he tossed his backpack to the side, taking off his jacket and holding it tight in his hand. He was damned if he was going to get killed by some godforsaken Goa’uld bulletproof rabid shark-cow-thing on one of his first off-planet outings. 

“Sir, I think next time we should requisition some grenades,” Carter called to him breathlessly as they ran.

“Ya think?” Jack shouted back. 

He let the team get ahead of him, spreading wide along the cliffs, then turned around. The cow, lips pulled back to reveal its sharp teeth, looked back and forth between them as if deciding which of them looked the tastiest. It paused while looking at Sha’re, who seemed paralyzed with fear.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Jack, waving his arms over his head. “Over here!”

The cow shifted its attention back to him, lowering its head. Jack backed toward the edge of the cliff, holding his jacket in his right hand. “Come on,” he said, waving the jacket in the air.

With a mighty snort, the cow charged. Jack waved his jacket in front of his body, then slid sideways, still holding the jacket in the same place. The cow’s eyes seemed to fixate on the motion as it ran downhill, full-tilt. At the last possible second, Jack threw himself to one side, landing painfully on his left shoulder, groping for traction as his legs slid over the edge of the cliff. The crazed cow tried to turn to follow him, but its momentum pushed it forward. Its front hoof touched the edge of the cliff less than an inch from Jack’s grasping hand, and it sailed off the edge directly over Jack’s head, one of its rear hooves knocking the wind out of him as it went over.

Jack heard the cow’s lowing moo as it crashed to the rocks thirty feet below, but he was too focused on his own situation to enjoy the view. The edge of the cliff crumbled beneath his feet as he scrabbled for purchase, trying to keep the rest of his body from sliding over the edge. He could feel himself slipping as it turned from solid to sand beneath him. He fought for breath; he couldn’t even catch enough air to fuel his fight for safety.

As the last bits of sandy soil crumbled beneath his body, a pair of hands clasped his forearm. He looked up and saw Sha’re, lips curled back and teeth gritted, grabbing on to his arm. His weight pulled her forward to the edge of the cliff. The ground shook as Teal’c threw himself to the grass behind her, grabbing both her ankles. As Teal’c dragged them back, Carter threw herself down on the ground at the edge of the cliff, reaching her arm out. Jack threw his left hand forward, clasping his hand around hers. Together, the rest of the team dragged themselves backwards until Jack was safely on stable land.

Jack rolled over and laid on his back for a moment, staring at the sky, enjoying the sweet smell of crushed grass and wildflowers while trying desperately to catch his breath.

“That gives a whole new meaning to ‘mad cow,’ sir,” Carter gasped out.

Jack, still out of breath, nodded.

“You grew up surrounded by such animals, Jack?” Sha’re said, sounding exhausted and terrified.

“Ours had fewer teeth,” Jack said. He pushed himself onto his elbows, then flopped backwards again into the grass. “Let’s just lie here for a minute.”

Teal’c sat up. Unlike the rest of them, he seemed none the worse for wear. “I am sorry, Colonel O’Neill,” he said earnestly. “I had never seen the beast with my own eyes, and it did not occur to me what it was until the very last moment.”

“Remind me to stay away from that Nirrti,” Jack said, slowly getting to his knees. His back didn’t feel quite right. He knew he was going to be paying for this one tomorrow and hoped there was Aleve in the medkit. Carter was already pushing herself to her feet. Reaching out, he pulled a still shell-shocked Sha’re from the ground. He could see figures coming out of the treeline up above him.

Jack stood up and edged forward, this time staying a healthy distance away from the cliff edge, and peered over. The former bovine menace lay broken on the rocks below, hooves trailing off into the sand, officially halfway to being steak tartare.

“How’d you figure out what to do, sir?” Carter asked.

Jack debated whether to tell her. He shrugged. “You remember the old Bugs Bunny cartoons?” he asked.

As Carter’s eyes went wide, the Aotans called to them. “You have succeeded!” the one who had pointed the cow out to them said. “We will write songs about you! From now on, you shall be known as Jack the giant-killer!”

Carter snorted. “Thanks,” Jack said to the Aotan. “I’m honored.” Turning to Carter, he whispered, “You do _not_ get to make me a belt that says, ‘Seven with one blow!’”

Jack, his knees creaking painfully, and the rest of his team trailed the two Aotans on a path down the cliff. The Aotans made short work of butchering the shark-cow-thing. Sha’re helped them when she wasn’t staring in open-mouthed amazement at the lapping waves. 

The Aotans obviously sent some sort of message back to the village, because by the time they were done, about twenty more people were there and ready to haul the meat back to the village. Sha’re, Carter and Teal’c each shouldered a share of meat. Jack offered to, but the Aotans insisted as the slayer of the beast he shouldn’t have to carry its remains and he wasn’t really in any shape to argue. Jack noticed Sha’re looking longingly over her shoulder at the ocean as they hiked back up the hill.

As the large group walked back toward the village, their mood light and boisterous, Jack quickened his step until he was walking next to Sha’re. Carter started to step up her pace to join them; Jack shook his head minutely at her. She nodded, and fell behind to join Teal’c.

“And the moral of the story is, let crying babies lie,” Jack said to Sha’re. 

Sha’re flashed a tired smile. “But if you hadn’t tried to rescue the child, what a feast we’d miss!” she said wearily.

They walked together in silence for a minute, the celebratory noise of the group echoing in the forest around them.

“So,” Jack asked. “What happened on Abydos?”

Sha’re sighed. “It had been a bad year for crops,” she said. “Even the fertile villages could not grow enough to keep themselves fed, and we depended on them for our food. We were all so hungry,” she said, as if she could barely believe the memory. “My friend Kepi grew sick after she gave birth. We did not know it at the time, but it was puerperal fever. Daniel told us we could prevent such things merely by washing our hands. But we did not know. She was sick and she had no milk, and the child was sickly, and there was not enough food for anyone.”

They walked silently together for several steps, ignoring the conversation around them. “Did she know?” Jack finally asked.

Sha’re shook her head. “No,” she said. “I told her I had found a wet nurse.”

Jack couldn’t let the matter sit. “I thought mastadges gave milk. You could have fed that to the baby.”

“No, Jack,” Sha’re said wearily. “We had already killed all the mastadges and eaten them. We had _no food_. We boiled leather and ate the soup from it. A baby cannot live on that.”

Jack still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of having no food. He’d seen footage from Ethiopia; the whole world had. He’d always thought that if he were in that position, he would have found some way to get food. It was hard to imagine that he was wrong. It was hard to imagine what he’d do in Sha’re’s place. He wondered if anyone who’d grown up in a first-world country really could. “So, what happened?” he asked.

“In the end, it did not matter,” Sha’re said. “Kepi died. Her child would have died shortly after. What I did made no difference.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said.

She sighed. “Jack, primitive people do not do these things to be cruel. Primitive does not mean stupid. It just means the people have a different set of choices to make. We had not enough food to go around, and our hunters needed it more so they would have the energy to bring down food for the rest of us. You come from a world of plenty, but we had nothing.” She looked into his eyes. “You must remember this. I suspect many of the cultures you meet will be more like my people than yours.”

 

> ### Memo to General George Hammond from Colonel Jack O’Neill, March 3, 1997
> 
> Sha’re Jackson is a vital asset to the SG-1 team. A military anthropologist may have experience observing a primitive culture, but Jackson knows what it’s like from the inside. She also knows what it’s like to live under the Goa’uld in a way the rest of us don’t. We would be at a big disadvantage if the Air Force were to replace her on our team. Captain Carter will begin a regimen of armed and unarmed combat training to ensure that her skills come up to snuff.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Carter teaches Sha're how to fight, and begins to bond with Teal'c. Dr. Fraiser gives Sha're fashion tips. Sha're learns about Earth food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She watched Captain Carter and Jack for clues on how to properly approach the meal before sampling the food herself. It seemed the tortilla chips were used as edible utensils to pick up the tomato-based relish in the center of the table, so she started with that. It was one thing she’d found that was consistent across the Earth culinary cultures she’d experienced to date – the meal generally began with a shared dish, eaten by hand, where some food was used as transport mechanism for a dip. After both _chips and dip_ and _pita and hummus_ , she’d assumed it was always a starch used as transport mechanism for the dip, but then Jack brought them _mozzarella sticks_ and _buffalo wings_ and she’d had to revise her theory. 
> 
> She was still surprised that the Tau’ri, who were usually so fastidious, always both shared that first dish and ate it by hand. She wondered if it was a barrier-breaking ritual, or if it was designed to show trust that fellow diners were antiseptic enough not to contaminate the shared food and dip with their _germs_. She wished Daniel were there to explain it to her.

Sam barely felt Sha’re’s weak punch. She willed herself to be patient. “Try it again,” she said, standing in front of Sha’re, fists raised. “This time, give it all you’ve got.”

The sound of Sha’re’s next punch died quickly in the large, empty gym. It wasn’t even close to the strength Sam suspected the other woman had.  And it wasn’t fast. Sam was easily able to get her hands up in time to block Sha’re’s shot. The other woman didn’t even graze the chest pad Sam was wearing. 

Sam sighed and dropped her gloved hands down to her sides. Maybe it was unreasonable for her to expect Sha’re to pick up fighting as quickly as she’d picked up computers, where she was already capable of writing up her own mission reports with almost no help from Sam. But Sha’re had worked hard to pick up her computer skills. Here, working on basic hand-to-hand, it didn’t seem like she was even trying.

“Look,” Sam said. “You’re not going to hurt me. See?” She slammed her gloves against each other, beat them against her chest pad, then knocked one of them against the helmet she wore. “I’ve even got a throat guard on. You’re not going to get through this.”

Sha’re’s helmet forced her cheeks forward just slightly, as if she were perennially having her face patted by some adoring aunt. Between the artificially rounded cheeks and the big eyes, she looked like an innocent teenager. She pressed her lips together tightly and took another swing at Sam, who blocked.

“That’s…better,” Sam said, lying.

“It was not,” Sha’re said.

“No, it was,” Sam said.

“You are a terrible liar, Captain Carter.” Sha’re said flatly. She sighed, her shoulders drooping. “I will never be good at this. I fought once, when Daniel and Jack were captured by Ra.” She stared at the far wall. “But that was different. This – this I cannot do.”

“Sha’re, you don’t have an option,” Sam insisted. “Now that the Colonel convinced Hammond to let you stay on the team, you have to learn how to defend yourself. You can’t count on me or the Colonel or Teal’c to protect you.”

“I don’t _want_ you to protect me!” Sha’re said, sounding for all the world like a whiny teenager. “I just do not see how I can learn to do this. Practicing by trying to hurt you – I cannot even pretend to try to hurt you.” She pulled at one of her gloves, catching it in the crook of her elbow to tug it off. “I should go back to reading. I still have much to learn there. This fighting is too difficult.”

“Perhaps I can be of help,” Teal’c said. He stood in the doorway to the gym. His resonant voice was quiet, yet filled the room. Sam still didn’t know how he did that, but she wanted lessons. The black tank top he wore accented his powerful muscles. He nodded toward them both, in that way he had that looked almost like the beginning of a bow. “Captain Carter, if I may take your place in the field of combat for a few minutes?”

Sam looked at Sha’re, who was scowling. The scowl was, in Sam’s book anyway, a step up from whining. 

“That might not be a bad idea,” Sam said. 

Teal’c put the chest pad and helmet aside, then strapped on his gloves. Sam moved closer to Sha’re. “Look, I know you’re worried about hurting me, but trust me. There is _no way_ you’re going to get a shot in on Teal’c.”

Sha’re’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. Her face showed more determination than it had during all of their exercises. “I promise you, Captain Carter, it will not be for lack of trying.”  

“That’s the spirit,” Sam said, patting Sha’re on one shoulder with her gloved hand. Beneath that strange old-rubber smell that gyms always had, Sam caught the scent of Ivory soap. Sha’re hadn’t even broken a sweat. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” Sam said.

As Teal’c stepped on to the mat, Sam stepped down onto the gym floor, wedging one glove under her armpit in order to yank it off, and settled in to watch.

Teal’c didn’t tap his gloves together as someone from Earth might have; he just raised his hands up so they were in the ready position. “You may begin,” he said calmly to Sha’re. 

Sha’re hauled off with a forceful punch that topped anything she’d thrown at Sam, or even at the punching bag. Sam was startled by the anger in Sha’re’s eyes. It seemed well beyond the frustration she’d showed earlier.

Teal’c, on the other hand, seemed to take things with his normal equanimity as the room filled with the rhythmic _smack_ sounds of Sha’re punching at Teal’c. He blocked most of Sha’re’s punches, letting just enough through to give her some incentive to continue. Sam could tell that the big man was dropping his hands on purpose, though it didn’t seem Sha’re could see it. The Abydonian woman focused on Teal’c with dogged determination. Her shoulders were taut, moving toward her ears, and Sam prepared to step in to correct her form.

“You grow weary,” Teal’c said to Sha’re.

Sha’re panted, but threw another punch. “I can continue,” she said.

“You draw your shoulders toward your ears. It is instinct, to protect yourself.” Teal’c blocked her next punch with a little more force. “It is a bad instinct. You will fight for longer if you keep your shoulders relaxed at the beginning of the punch.”

Sha’re paused for a moment. From behind, despite the baggy T-shirt she wore, Sam could see her shoulders relax. Not too much, but enough. She punched at Teal’c again, and this time her punch was solid.

Teal’c and Sha’re continued to spar for almost a half hour – or, to be more accurate, Teal’c continued to serve as Sha’re’s mobile, occasionally advice-giving punching bag. Sam stepped in once or twice to give Sha’re tips as well. This time, instead of whining or giving up, Sha’re focused on what Sam said and applied it. Her earlier rage slowly damped down, replaced by exhaustion. A wet streak grew across the back of her shirt.

Teal’c glanced toward Sam, who nodded. “Sha’re, you’ve really shown some progress tonight,” she said, helping Sha’re get her gloves off. Sha’re didn’t smell of Ivory soap now; she had the wet, earthy smell of fresh, hard sweat. “Next time, I want you to try breaking out of some holds.” 

“Thank you,” Sha’re said. She turned her head toward Teal’c, not quite making eye contact. “And – thank you,” she said, only a little grudgingly.

“Go hit the showers,” Sam said, taking the boxing gloves and helmet away from her. “I’ll be in as soon as I put this stuff away.” 

Sha’re nodded wearily, trudging toward the women’s locker room. 

“Thank you, Teal’c,” Sam murmured to the big man, who had moved next to her. “I think this would have been a failure if it weren’t for you.”

Once again, he gave that little mini-bow. “It was my pleasure, Captain Carter.”

“You knew she was angry when you came in, didn’t you?” Sam asked.

Teal’c nodded, frowning. “Sha’re Jackson has very good reasons to be angry,” he said. “I am not sure she will ever forgive me for what happened to her husband. But it occurred to me that we could use it to our advantage.”

“You were right,” Sam said. “Teal’c, do you mind meeting us down here every couple of days for more practice?”

“I, too, would find it helpful,” he said. “Some of the techniques you used in fighting off the Aotans were unknown to me. I should like to learn them from you.”

“Sure,” Sam said, “so long as you teach me that joint lock you used on that guy just before they knocked you on the back of the head.”

“I will gladly do so,” he said. Then he looked toward the closed locker room door. “Although I think I will wait several weeks before I teach something with so much potential for injury to Sha’re Jackson.”

 

The next day, Sam tuned up the efficiency of the Stargate dialing sequencer, scanning through lines of code until her eyes burned with fatigue. She’d had every intention of going home for dinner – there was a Healthy Choice Chicken Fettucine Alfredo dinner in the freezer, and _Murphy Brown_ , _Cybill_ and _Chicago Hope_ were all waiting on the VCR – but by the time she looked up, it was eight o’clock, and she figured she’d better get a snack at the commissary before she went home.

Sam cruised the dessert shelf, looking for blue Jell-o. Instead, all she could find was a dish of red Jell-o and a bowl of chocolate pudding that looked like it had been there since the Carter administration. With an inward cringe, she took the red Jell-o. 

The dining room was almost empty, just a few swing shifters on coffee break providing the occasional clank of spoon on saucer. Sam saw Sha’re sitting at a table by herself, the picture of the modern multitasker. She wore a pair of headphones connected to a portable cassette player on the table, and propped up a hefty tome with one hand, her lips moving as she read. Occasionally she looked down at her meal, poking disconsolately at a bowl of blue Jell-o with a fork. _So_ that’s _where the last blue Jell-o went_ , Sam thought.

“Hey,” she said, her voice light as she slid her tray onto Sha’re’s table. “What did the Jell-o ever do to deserve that?”

Sha’re frowned, tugging off the headphones and pressing pause, and poked again. “It’s quivering,” she said, laying the book down on the table.

“That’s why kids like it,” Sam said.

“It’s blue.” She poked at the Jell-o again. It trembled. “Food should not be blue.”

Before Sha’re could poke at her dessert again, Sam grabbed the bowl from her tray and replaced it with the red Jell-o that had been sitting on her own tray. Sha’re looked up at her.

“I like blue Jell-o better anyway,” Sam said. “Is red a better color for food?”

Sha’re sighed and dug in, spearing some of the Jello and bringing it to her mouth. As Sam ate a blue wobbly cube, she watched a perplexed look cross Sha’re’s face as she ate.

Sam swallowed. “What?” she asked.

“I cannot tell if you are supposed to chew it or not,” Sha’re said.

“Usually,” Sam said. “Do you like it?”

Sha’re’s eyebrows furrowed. “I am reserving judgment,” she said, and brought another forkful of Jell-o to her mouth.

Sam smiled. “My mom used to make this all the time,” she said. “The blue was her favorite. She made pies with it, and Jell-O salad…”

Sha’re cringed. “Salad? With lettuce and tomatoes and cucumbers –“

“Oh, no,” Sam said. “It was more like potato salad. Only with marshmallows and Jello in place of the potatoes and onions.”

Sha’re’s facial expression didn’t change. “But what was in place of the mayonnaise?”

“I swear,” Sam said, rolling her eyes, “it’s good. It’s definitely better than the potato salad the commissary makes. I’ll make it for you sometime.” When Sha’re looked at her suspiciously, she said defensively, “Despite what you all think, there are a few things I can cook. Just – not on a campfire.”

They ate companionably in silence for a minute. Then Sha’re asked, “Now I understand why you like blue Jell-O so much. Why do you hate red Jell-O so much?”

Sam had stored up a million flip answers to this question, but not one rolled off her tongue. She put her spoon down and stared at the table. “So, my mom liked blue Jell-O because of the way it looked in pies and Jell-O salad. And my dad hated it for exactly the same reason. We had this big family picnic one weekend, and Dad made Mom make red Jell-O for it.” She folded her hands in front of her. She still couldn’t look up. “So I got home from track practice, and I was hungry, and there were all these leftovers in the fridge. I started eating the Jell-O salad. I knew my mom would yell at me, but I was really hungry.” She took a deep breath. “The doorbell rang, and the police were at the door. My mouth was still full when I opened it. And they told me my mom had died in a car accident.” Sam forced a smile, picking up her spoon. “So that’s why I don’t like red Jell-O.”

Sha’re stretched her arm across the table, covering Sam’s hand with her own. “I am very sorry,” she said. She looked down at her bowl, then back up at Sam. “When I am around, you will never have to eat red Jell-O.”

Sam’s eyes stung. She looked back down into her bowl. “Thanks,” she said. Looking for a change of subject, she gestured at the cassette player and the book on the table. “So, you’re multitasking.”

From the look on Sha’re’s face, it took her a moment to parse the last word. Then she smiled. “Yes, you could call it that. It appears the military placed much of Daniel’s property in storage when he initially came here to decode the Stargate, and they have had it ever since.” She shook her head, looking perplexed. “They thought he was dead, and yet they saved his things.”

“They probably just hadn’t gotten around to getting rid of it yet. Things in the military don’t always move too quickly,” Sam said.

Sha’re nodded. “I received many of his boxes three days ago. There are books. Many, many books. And papers, and floppy disks, and –” she gestured with one hand “ — _things_.” She looked at the tape player and sighed. “Sam, I do not think I know my husband at _all_.”

“Why do you say that?” Sam asked, wondering if Sha’re had found something illicit in her husband’s boxes.

“It is this _music_ ,” Sha’re said, tapping one finger on the cassette player. 

“Can I listen for a minute?” Sam asked. Sha’re handed her the headphones.

The volume was set much lower than Sam was used to, but she could still make it out. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it sounded Middle Eastern, with ululating singing and stringed instruments. “I thought you’d like this stuff,” she said to Sha’re. “Doesn’t your music sound something like this?”

Sha’re shook her head. “No,” she said. “Our music does not sound like this at all. And then there is this,” she said. She turned over the tape. “I did not discover these tapes had two sides until yesterday,” she muttered before she hit the play button.

Jangly guitars spilled through the headphones. “ _And if a double decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die._ ” Sam thought she’d heard this one before, but she didn’t know where. “Not your cup of tea either?” she asked.

“It sounded much better when Daniel sang it to me on Abydos,” Sha’re said glumly. She rested her chin on her hand.

“Is the book any better?” Sam asked hopefully.

Sha’re nodded. “I am beginning with every book that contains the word ‘overview’ in the description. The first book I read was about Greek and Roman mythology. Then I found this book, which explains the mythology of every culture in the world.”

Sam blinked. “That’s a lot of reading in three days,” she said.

“It is only the beginning,” Sha’re said. “Daniel has three hundred and ninety seven books. I plan to read them all over the next year.”

“Sha’re, there’s only three hundred and sixty five days in a year,” Sam said. “You’re planning to read more than a book a day!”

Sha’re nodded. “I can do it. It is slow now, but the more I read, the easier it will become.”

Sam shook her head. “Sha’re, you aren’t going to need to read all these books. Daniel was in academia. I’m sure a lot of the books in his collections were ones he never read through – if he read them at all.”

“Daniel read them all,” Sha’re said, unshakeable faith in her voice. “He was the sort of man who would. And I have to read them. What if the one book I decide not to read is the one that imparts some vital fact that is the difference between life and death for us?”

“But if you burn yourself out, you’re not going to be any help, either,” Sam said. “You also need to take some time to relax.”

“That will come later,” Sha’re said, gathering her things. “Right now, I must learn as quickly as I can.”

 

> ### Mission report, Captain Samantha Carter, March 12, 1997
> 
> …Dr. Fraiser, our new medical officer, was of key assistance in determining the nature of the alien nanites that caused rapid aging in Colonel O’Neill as well as the Argosians. She predicts that Colonel O’Neill’s physical condition will return to normal in several days. She is also developing a field kit that will allow SG-1 teams to test alien foods for nanites or bacteria.

 

The first time Sha’re met Janet Fraiser was in the women’s locker room. Sha’re was preparing to join her team for a celebratory dinner after successfully retrieving Jack from Argos. 

As she zipped up the ill-fitting pants called _jeans_ that Captain Carter had loaned her, which were tight and binding in all the wrong places, she wished that they could go to a restaurant instead of eating in one of the SGC’s rec rooms. Sha’re was tired of being confined to the climate-controlled air of the SGC when she was on Earth. Besides, Captain Carter and Jack always commented during their meals that the celebratory cuisine called _take-out_ tasted much better in the restaurant, and Sha’re wondered just how good food could get. Teal’c, however, was not allowed to leave the SGC due to the alien larva inside him, and Jack refused to leave him behind, which meant Sha’re was trapped inside the SGC, too. She hadn’t seen the surface of Earth since her first night, when the military had forgotten about her and Jack had brought her home to sleep on his couch.

An unfamiliar voice snapped her out of her resentful reverie.  “Oh, honey, did Sam Carter get you those clothes?”

Sha’re turned, surprised to see a short red-haired woman looking at her with a mixture of pity and amusement. “Yes,” Sha’re said slowly as she pulled a coral flowered shirt from the locker. “She wanted to make sure I had normal Earth clothes to wear.”

The short woman shook her head. “The last time those clothes were normal, Madonna was still married to Sean Penn. Put that shirt back.” She rummaged in her locker for a minute, then pulled out a hot pink tank top. “Here,” she said, tossing it to Sha’re. “I can’t do anything about the mom jeans, but I can at least fix the shirt. Try this instead.” 

Sha’re pulled the shirt over her head. It was much tighter around the chest than the shirts Sam had given her, but loose elsewhere else. The tiny shoulder straps did not completely cover her white bra straps, and if she breathed too deeply, there would be a gap between her shirt and the waistband of her pants. “I am not sure. Is this perhaps too revealing?” she asked.

Janet waved off the comment with a toss of her hand. “You’re young,” she said. “Compared to most of the girls out there, you’re dressing conservatively.” She touched Sha’re’s arm gently, her smile bright and her eyes sparkling with laughter. “I’m Janet Frasier. I’m the new doctor and I’m guessing you’re the alien.”

“One of them,” Sha’re said. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“Stop by my office sometime. I’ll lend you a copy of _Mademoiselle_. The SGC pays for the medical advice, but the fashion advice is on the house.” Before Sha’re could ask Janet where the house was that it was on, Janet was walking toward the door. “Call me sometime. We’ll go shopping.” As she walked out the door, she called over her shoulder, “You can bring Sam!”

Carter strode in from the showers a few seconds later, one towel wrapped around her body, the other between her hands as she roughly towel-dried her hair. “Who was that?”  

Sha’re was still bewildered by the force of the small woman’s big personality. “I believe she is the new doctor.”

“Dr. Fraiser,” Carter said. “I guess you two didn’t meet while she and I were working on the nanites that infected Colonel O’Neill.” She glanced at Sha’re while pulling on her underwear. “Wow, that’s one pink top you’ve got on.”

Sha’re smoothed it over her stomach and looked in the mirror, turning back and forth to admire herself. “I think the color suits me,” she said. She smiled as she ran the hem of the shirt between her fingers to examine it. “We never had such bright dyes on Abydos.”

The Captain snapped a towel at her. “Stop admiring yourself in the mirror. This time you don’t get to be late. If we don’t get down to the rec room soon, the Colonel will eat all the pancakes.” She looked at the clock. “Or maybe all the ribs. I can’t tell if this is going to be brunch, or a very late dinner.”

 

“It’s dinner,” Captain Carter told Sha’re as they sat down around the table in the rec room. 

Sha’re looked at the food that lay on the table, wondering how Captain Carter could tell. “What kind of food is this?”

Captain Carter picked up a triangular chip. “It’s Mexican. See? Tortilla chips.”

“But there are rice and beans on our plates. I thought Mexican was the food with the tomatoes, the cheese and the noodles,” Sha’re said.

“That would be Italian, Sha’re Jackson,” Teal’c said with a smug confidence that annoyed her. “It is also known for its wine, its tiramisu, and the organized crime that supports it.”

“Someone’s been watching the Godfather. That last part’s only in the movies,” Jack said in a creaky voice. Though he was no longer the wizened man they had found on their return to Argos, his face was still very wrinkled and his hair thin and white.

Teal’c raised an eyebrow in disbelief at Jack’s words, but kept his own council.

“Mexican’s the stuff with the cheese, the tomatoes, and the rice,” Jack said.

“Then what is the food with the rice, the noodles, and no tomatoes?” Sha’re asked.

“Chinese, Japanese or Thai,” the Captain answered. “And Indian has rice, and sometimes tomatoes, but no melted cheese.”

Sha’re shook her head. For a moment, her teammates seemed very alien to her, and she found herself wishing she was home surrounded by all her friends. She was never going to be able to keep all these types of food straight – although so far, even if strange, they were uniformly better than what she was used to. 

She watched Captain Carter and Jack for clues on how to properly approach the meal before sampling the food herself. It seemed the tortilla chips were used as edible utensils to pick up the tomato-based relish in the center of the table, so she started with that. It was one thing she’d found that was consistent across the Earth culinary cultures she’d experienced to date – the meal generally began with a shared dish, eaten by hand, where some food was used as transport mechanism for a dip. After both _chips and dip_ and _pita and hummus_ , she’d assumed it was always a starch used as transport mechanism for the dip, but then Jack brought them _mozzarella sticks_ and _buffalo wings_ and she’d had to revise her theory. 

She was still surprised that the Tau’ri, who were usually so fastidious, always both shared that first dish and ate it by hand. She wondered if it was a barrier-breaking ritual, or if it was designed to show trust that fellow diners were antiseptic enough not to contaminate the shared food and dip with their _germs_. She wished Daniel were there to explain it to her.

Jack picked up a hard-sided, U-shaped shell with lettuce, beans, and some sort of meat mix inside, turned his head, and began to eat. Captain Carter, meanwhile, used a knife and fork to cut into a rolled-up, soft bread with cheese and a sauce on top; inside was meat and more beans. _Hard objects are eaten by hand; soft ones are eaten with a knife and fork_ , she thought. Sha’re took another soft-sided tube of food, this one coated with cheese, and sliced into it. She was bringing the fork up to her mouth when a siren suddenly sounded from the speaker behind her. She dropped her utensil, hands automatically flying to her ears to shut out the loud noise. Carter and Teal’c stood up quickly.

“Sit down,” Jack shouted over the klaxon, gesturing with his still age-spotted hand. “It’s a drill. Hammond radioed me about it before we left Argos. He took pity on an old guy. We’re sitting this one out.”

“What is a drill? And does it always make this much noise?” Sha’re asked, bracing herself against the sound. She tried uncovering her ears, but it was still too loud.

“Carter, can you –“ O’Neill gestured at the speaker above Sha’re’s head. Captain Carter climbed on a chair, reaching for the speaker. In a few moments, the speaker went silent. The noise from the corridor was still loud, but tolerable.

“Worst timing on a drill I ever saw was when I was based over at Rammstein in the early‘80s,” O’Neill said. “We were doing air support for some guys out of Stuttgart. It was a snap drill, and the base had gone nuts throwing a bachelor party that night. Artillery punch and everything. The best man drove his tank right through a Mercedes dealership,” O’Neill said, sliding his hand through the air and into the paper bag that sat on the table. “He’s probably still getting it taken out of his pay.” He pointed his fork at Captain Carter. “How about you?”

“They weren’t much for the surprise drills at Incirlik, sir. I was over there just after I flew in the Gulf War. Everyone was so worried Hussein was going to throw a nuke at us that we were always on our toes.”

“I don’t understand,” Sha’re asked. “I know that a drill is something you use to bore into rock. But I think you mean something else.”

“It’s an exercise,” Jack said. “The military’s way of making sure that you’re prepared for any event at any time. They tell you an enemy is attacking, or there’s been an earthquake, or…”

“A nuclear plant meltdown, VX gas attack,” Captain Carter chimed in.

“Right,” Jack said. “Sometimes they tell you it’s a drill.” He shrugged, taking another bite of his food. “Sometimes they don’t.”

“So, they pretend that an attack is coming, and do not warn anyone that it is not so?” Sha’re asked. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It can be,” Teal’c said. “Apophis performs similar exercises. We were once told that a contingent of Jaffa landing on our planet were in fact spies for Her’ur. Master Bra’tac, our leader, very skillfully led us to surround them. Had Apophis’ command to drop arms come but a second later, we would have slain an entire squadron of our fellow warriors.”

Sha’re, eyes wide, looked at the door. Outside, she could hear boots pounding down the hall.

“Eat your enchilada,” Jack said, pointing at her plate. “It’s only a drill. Trust me, when it’s a real crisis, you’ll know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that in our universe blue Jell-o was not invented until the 1990s, but in this alternate universe it was developed significantly earlier. This is not the only difference between Sha're's universe and our own!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What begins as a simple diplomatic meeting with alien culture the Gizaki turns perilous, leaving one member of the team in life-threatening danger. But the Gizaki have resources that the SGC desperately need. Can they find a solution that will see all the team members safely home and establish a diplomatic relationship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sha’re laughed, but her face didn’t reflect the sound. She pointed at her ear, then at the door. Sam nodded, and pointed to the bathroom.
> 
> “Shall we inspect their bathing area?” Sha’re asked.
> 
> “Sure,” Sam said, leading her through the side door into the bathroom. It was huge. The shower had nozzles on the wall as well as the ceiling and was easily large enough for three men of Teal’c’s size. It took Sam a moment to figure out how the faucet worked, but once she got a hang of the tug-and-bend motion, the water roared from nozzles all around the shower compartment. “You think they’re listening?” she whispered.
> 
> “I would,” Sha’re shrugged.

Sha’re watched the numbers change on the elevator. _26, 27_ – she wished it would go faster. She looked at her watch again, wishing those numbers would go backwards. She was late again. She kept forgetting that minutes converted to hours in increments of sixty, not one hundred.

Before the elevator doors had time to fully open on level 28, she was already squeezing through, running for the Gateroom. Inside, Jack, Sam and Teal’c were waiting for her.

“Nice of you to join us,” Jack said.

“I am very sorry,” Sha’re said, reddening. Earth people treated time the way Abydonians thought of water – something precious and rare. Sha’re was still struggling with the way they counted it. She didn’t want to tell anyone that she’d been waiting around the Gateroom an hour before, assuming everyone else would be there momentarily. Then she’d gone back to her office to use the extra time to read, and when she looked up, she was late. 

Jack waved up to Sergeant Harriman in the Gate Room. “Fire it up,” he said.

After a few seconds, the Stargate opened. Sha’re took a deep breath of the SGC’s sterile air before entering the wormhole, and hoped that her day would not get any worse.

She exhaled as they exited the Stargate, and then took another deep breath. It was the first time she’d been outdoors since their mission on Argos. The air wasn’t dry and hot like home, and it didn’t have the salty ocean scent of the air on Argos. It didn’t have the dull, stagnant sterility of the base under Cheyenne Mountain, either.  The smell of the air on this planet was sweet, yet astringent, as if a soft wood had been liberally doused with honey. Just as the MALP had showed, Sha’re could see a path at the base of the Stargate that led to a road a few yards away.

Jack took a deep breath as well, then let it out as he looked around them. “I was hoping for something a little weirder,” he said.

“Sir, the last time you hoped for weird, we found a gigantic rabid man-eating cow,” Captain Carter said, trotting beside him down the steps. 

Jack shrugged off her comment. “Carter, we’re exploring strange new worlds. Seeking out new life and new civilizations,” he said, waving one hand in the air. “And every planet looks the same. I thought maybe we’d get some blue trees, red grass, _something_ alien.”

Sha’re pointed toward the horizon. “There’s only one moon,” she said helpfully.

“If I wanted to see one moon I could have stayed on Earth,” Jack said over his shoulder.

Behind him, Sha’re grimaced, then quickly assumed a studied calm look. _Idiot_ , she thought to herself. Daniel had told her Earth only had one moon, larger and whiter than the ones in the skies of Abydos. She should have remembered.

“They placed the Stargate on a hill,” Carter said. “Whoever put it here wanted something that was easy to scout the area from. Or maybe easy to defend.”

Sha’re clenched her teeth. That was exactly the sort of observation _she_ needed to be making. Today was not her day. She studied a plaque in an alien script that stood next to the DHD, and racked her brain for any informative insight on their surroundings, wishing she could understand the foreign characters.

“O’Neill,” Teal’c said, his deep voice booming. “Someone comes.” He pointed in the distance. 

“Guess they saw the MALP,” Jack said, peering through his field glasses.

The vehicle looked to Sha’re very like the automobile that Jack had driven when they went back to his home on her first night on Earth, the same night he’d introduced her to the wonders of _pizza_ and _Heineken_ and _half-hour delivery guarantees_. 

“Alien enough for you, sir?” Captain Carter asked.

“It looks like a stretch Humvee made by DeSoto,” Jack said in a disappointed tone. “See, this is why I never travel. “ He let the glasses hang by a cord around his neck, and walked down the stone path towards the dark gray road. “Time to meet the neighbors, everyone. Look sharp.”

Sha’re trotted behind them, anxious to catch up with Colonel O’Neill. Teal’c moved at what seemed like a slow, measured pace, yet somehow reached Jack’s side before she did. Carter was already standing next to Jack, making Sha’re the last straggler. 

Jack poked dispiritedly at the road with his toe. “See, Carter? Asphalt.”

“Their level of development must be roughly equivalent to ours if they have asphalt roads and cars,” Carter, standing next to him, said brightly as Sha’re fell in line next to her. “It increases the likelihood that we can exchange technology with them.”

“Always looking on the bright side, aren’t you, Carter?” Jack said.

“Optimists are 19% more likely to survive a potentially fatal medical situation, sir,” Carter said, a smile quirking one corner of her mouth. Sha’re had noted that Carter’s banter with Jack seemed to have a positive influence on their working relationship. and envied Carter her wittiness. 

They could hear the low thrum and hiss of the engine as it came closer. Carter tilted her head. “Sir, it doesn’t sound like a normal internal combustion engine. I’d like to get a look under that hood.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you, Carter,” Jack said, standing a little straighter as the car pulled up. Sha’re suddenly saw the anxiety that lay under the jokes. This wasn’t just her first trip off-world since the trip to Argos. It was Jack’s, too, and the future of the Stargate program still rested on his shoulders. 

Sha’re had overheard his conversation with Hammond in the corridor the day before they left for this planet. She didn’t entirely understand what Hammond meant when he said powerful people would “slash the budget.” She wasn’t sure what a budget was, but she could tell it was important, and being held hostage by someone threatening to do violence to it unless they found new technology to bring to Earth. She glanced at Carter and Teal’c quickly, wondering if she was the only one who noticed the tension in the Colonel’s shoulders.

The vehicle came to a halt in front of them, and the door slid upwards. Carter turned to Jack, opening her mouth, and he held up his hand. “DeLorean. _Back to the Future_ ,” he said. Sha’re didn’t know what it meant, but Carter sighed and shook her head.

In rapid order, six women exited the car and stood opposite the team. Their hair color ranged from medium brown to auburn to black. Some wore their hair in short practical styles like Captain Carter; others wore it long and pulled back as Sha’re had learned to do. The women wore dresses and tunics, each with its own unique style, rather than uniforms like SG-1; Sha’re could see that the cloth and construction were quite fine, with ornate hand embroidery along the hems and collars. Perhaps things were different on this world, but if this were the meeting of two tribes on Abydos, SG-1 would have immediately lost status points.

Sha’re could see the women looking back and forth between Sha’re and Captain Carter. An older woman stepped forward, smiling, and directed her greeting to both of them. “I am Nereia Bixente Alazne, the leader here,” she said. “We’d like to welcome you to our world. You are the first visitors we’ve had in a very long time.”

Before Sha’re could respond, Carter laughed nervously, and Jack spoke in a mild tone. “Hi. We’re glad to be here. I’m the team’s leader, Colonel Jack O’Neill.” The alien woman could not hide her surprise as he continued, “This is Captain Samantha Carter, our science expert, Mrs. Sha’re Jackson, our cultural expert, and Teal’c, our –“ Jack’s pause was probably too brief for anyone but Sha’re to detect it “- expert on Goa’uld affairs.”

There was a murmur from the women.

“There has been some debate among us as to whether the Goa’uld are real creatures or figures of myth,” Alazne said, her eyes still flicking back and forth between Jack, Sha’re and Carter. She ignored Teal’c completely. 

“Oh, they’re real,” Jack replied, a hint of wariness under his slouch. “We’ve seen ‘em up close and personal. I take it they haven’t been around here for a while?”

“Not for a long time,” Alazne said. She squinted, shading her eyes against the sun with one hand. “It had never occurred to us that people might come through the stone ring; some of us thought the stories were only legend.” Her glance once again moved between Carter and Sha’re. She smiled apologetically, but there was something about her demeanor that Sha’re found a little off. “We never thought to build a meeting facility here, and you arrived before we could even construct a temporary structure. If you do not object, I’d like to continue this discussion back in the city, in more hospitable surroundings.” She gestured toward the vehicle.

“We’d be honored to see your city,” Jack replied. He glanced at his team. “Shall we?”

Sha’re slid into the car through the rear doors. The seats in the rear compartment were arrayed in a U shape, allowing all the passengers to sit face to face. Through the window, she saw the driver standing next to the car, peering toward a distant hillside through something very similar to Jack’s field glasses. Then the driver snapped them shut and slid into the front seat. Sha’re couldn’t tell from the jawline or build if the driver was a very masculine-looking woman, or a slightly feminine-looking man. Either way, the person was tall and slender, with eyes and a regal nose that echoed Alazne’s.

When Sha’re looked back into the compartment, the native women were already engaged in animated discussion with the other members of SG-1, obviously intrigued. Jack and Teal’c were seated near the doors of the car, engrossed in conversation with Alazne and a younger woman who, though quick to smile, looked like a more severe version of her. Carter was making awkward conversation with the woman to her left. The dark-haired, dark-eyed woman to Sha’re’s right looked at her brightly; it was only by looking closely that Sha’re could see that her hands were shaking slightly.

Sha’re remembered meeting Daniel for the first time. At least here they could speak the same language. “So. This is your first time meeting someone from off-world,” Sha’re said, trying to project friendly warmth.

“I’m Mahats Mirare Alazne,” the woman said. The way she spoke was crisp, no-nonsense. Sha’re liked her immediately. “I’m in charge of education here, which prepares me for talking with people from other planets, if only because the young so often seem to be from another world entirely.”

Sha’re laughed, caught by surprise at the other woman’s joke. 

Mahats smiled back. “Also,” she said, gesturing with two fingers at the Stargate, “none of the others have visited the stone ring since they were schoolchildren, and they wanted someone who was familiar with it as part of the group. It was a bit of a scramble to put together a diplomatic greeting party on short notice. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the day.”

Over the course of the ride, Sha’re learned that Mahats and Nereia shared the same grandmother. From what she could ascertain, it seemed that all of the women in the car were related to some degree. Sha’re wondered if it was coincidence that brought them all into the planetary government, or if their family was in charge of the planet, and added it to the list of questions she was keeping in her head.

As the car entered the city Sha’re tried not to gape, making an effort to keep her glances out the window as casual as the rest of her team’s. It wasn’t the number of people that startled her; Nagada had been, if anything, even more densely populated. It was the straight shoulders of the natives here, their bright dress, the overwhelming sense of prosperity. Everyone in Nagada had always been exhausted and anxious, bent down under the burning sun. Here, trees lined the side of the road, providing a verdant shade for the people striding along the broad sidewalks below. High walls surrounded many of the buildings, but from the way people wandered about freely, it seemed more a matter of tradition than defense. No one seemed afraid. Sha’re wondered, from the way Jack and Captain Carter barely noticed the world outside, if Earth was like that as well. 

Their vehicle turned, passing through an open gate. “Ah, here we are,” Nereia said from her seat beside Jack.

They pulled to a stop in the circular driveway outside a large building. Two more uniformed androgynies opened wooden doors that stood twice their height. Each of the uniformed people had hair cut precisely at chin length, and each wore a floppy hat and a red sash across his body. _Her body?_ Sha’re thought. She wasn’t sure. Another thing to ask Mahats.

“Your science specialist is likely to find what lies inside interesting,” Nereia said. “And Mahats, perhaps you can use a conference room for a discussion with their cultural specialist.”

“See?” Mahats said under her breath. “ _No_ idea what to do with us.”

“Sha’re, Carter,” Jack said. “We’re gonna go to their government building and talk Goa’uld with Nereia and Bixente while you head off to the labs. We’ll meet up with you at dinner.” Captain Carter nodded.

Sha’re nodded too, keeping her face calm even as her chest knotted with anxiety. As she made her way out of the car, she clumsily tangled her limbs with Gaxuxa’s, and they both fell. As Sha’re had planned, her fall landed her in Jack’s lap. Under the cover of the ensuing chaos, she whispered quickly in his ear. “The driver was looking for danger with his field glasses. We have yet to see any men. Be cautious.”

“I gotcha,” Jack said as he set her back on her feet. Anyone else in the car would have thought he was referring to the way he was helping her to her feet, rather than what she’d just said.  “Go. Be cultural.”

Reluctantly, Sha’re made her way out of the vehicle and followed Mahats through the large double doors.

 

Sam began to feel relieved as she took in the technologies Oihane showed off to her. Gizaki technology seemed to have gone down paths abandoned as dead ends on Earth, reaching similar levels of development through very different methods. The steam engines that powered the car, which seemed about on a par with Earth’s internal combustion engines, were only the first difference. Finally, they’d found a potential trading partner that would be an asset to Earth.

The brass had been pressing Hammond to show “results” from their interstellar explorations, and by “results” they meant new technology. “Something better than the Cheez Whiz and tinfoil the space program produced,” Hammond quoted them acerbically. Though Hammond had pushed back, he’d made it clear to O’Neill that they needed this technology to keep their funding. O’Neill, in turn, had told Sam to keep an eye out – and now, she had a list of things that were potential home runs.

The tech wasn’t the only thing that would make the brass happy. Sam was almost positive the material the Gizaki used to build their devices, which Oihane called _eltzairu_ , was the same thing the Goa’uld called _naquadah_. If Sam could bring home just a sample, with the potential promise of more, it would give the Stargate program an even surer footing.

As they continued to tour the lab, Sam realized that, in complete opposition to male-dominated Earth labs, she hadn’t seen a man yet. Just about every scientific expert she met was female; Sam hadn’t seen a man yet. Some of the techs weren’t all that feminine, but they weren’t masculine, either. 

After they passed another androgynous technician staring at a computer readout projected on the wall, Sam asked quietly, “Oihane, I hope it’s not inappropriate to ask this, but what gender was the person we just passed?”

Oihane looked surprised. “Why, neuter,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam asked, stunned.

“Perhaps you use a different term?” Oihane asked, confused. “It’s the gender that is neither male nor female.”

Sam shook her head. “We only have two genders,” she said, “male and female. You’re saying some of your people are born neuters?” 

“Close to half,” Oihane said. “You only have men and women?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, and they’re born in nearly equal proportion.” She glanced at the lab workers that walked by as they entered the lobby. “From what I’ve seen, I’m guessing you don’t have very many men.”

Oihane nodded. “It’s a concern. We’ve been working on different ways to broaden the gene pool. My research is focused on eliminating the need for men altogether.  I want to create the first gynogenetic embryo.”

“Gynogenetic.  You mean…”

“Two ova, no sperm,” Oihane said, as she led Sam out of the building to the car. “It’s one way for us to surmount the issue of genetic diversity.” Three women sat inside the vehicle, two Gizaki on either side of Sha’re, and they seemed to be conversing amiably.

Sha’re looked up at her and smiled as a neuter shut the doors behind them. “Captain Carter. We were just discussing some of the recent discoveries they’ve made about the evolution of Gizaki society. You have perfect timing.”

“We were just telling Mrs. Jackson about some recent discoveries we’ve made in the mountains above Sertutxa,” the black-haired woman to the right of Sha’re said as they drove. “It’s a volcanically active area, and we recently found a small village that was buried in an eruption. It was inundated almost instantly,” she said, slapping the back of one hand against the other emphatically. Her eyes sparked with intellectual glee. “Most of the inhabitants died where they were, right next to their tools. It’s a treasure trove of information!” she said. 

“It sounds….fascinating,” Sam said politely.

“The village had been known only in legend, like Troy.” Sha’re said. “It was the place where people first lived when they fled a conquering Goa’uld. According to their tales, the god who brought them here, Mari, was killed by her evil brother Gaueko. He, in turn, died from an illness shortly after arriving on this planet – as has every god since. I think we can assume these deities were actually Goa’uld.” Sha’re said. She leaned forward and asked the woman next to her, “What techniques did your people use to find the city?”

Oihane let out a frustrated sigh. “Oh, she’ll never stop now,” she said quietly to Sam. “Those soft-sciences women think their field is so important. A trained _kixmi_ could do it.” She shook her head. “Does she put you through this sort of conversation on your home world, too, or does she save it for when you’re on other planets?”

Some things were similar on Gizak and Earth, Sam thought, including the friction between academic fields. “Sha’re’s input is always very helpful,” Sam said, forcing a fake smile. 

Oihane smiled back sardonically. “Of course it is,” she said as they drove through another gate, this one larger than the last. A palace-sized, dressed-stone building with a gently pitched roof and large overhanging eaves loomed not far away. Sam could see figures bustling on its many balconies. They pulled to a stop in front of the red doors of the building. “I wish you luck in enjoying the pleasure of her company while you prepare for dinner,” Oihane said. “I’ve no idea how you partner with a soft-sciences woman.”

Sam couldn’t help but respond to the woman’s dismissive attitude. “Sha’re’s work is just as important as every other member of our team. The four of us work together,” she said bitingly.

Oihane’s eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline. “I see,” she said, her tone suddenly disdainful. When the rear doors opened, she slid out of the car as if she couldn’t get away from Sam fast enough. “I’ll be sure to see you at dinner,” she said over her shoulder. “The _gauzak_ will lead you to your room,” she said. As she walked away, Sam tried to figure out what she’d done wrong. Was the humanities versus hard science debate more of a pitched battle here?

Sam reached for her pack, but Sha’re lurched against her shoulder as she stood up, knocking Sam off balance. She looked up sharply to see Sha’re shaking her head minutely. The neuter that had opened the doors reached in to take Sam’s pack, as well as Sha’re’s.

Sha’re’s two Gizaki escorts were waiting for them in the courtyard. “Isn’t it magnificent?” the older woman said, running her hand over a towering, petal-shaped sculpture that stood in the middle of the courtyard. It had the matte look of naquadah. “We found it during the dig, buried for thousands of years and still as perfect as the day it was made. Whatever techniques our ancestors used to make it are lost to us now – I only wish our sculptors could create something this large out of _eltzairu_. The rest of our finds are headed to a museum, but Nereia wanted this one for herself.” Sam, though she preferred representational art murmured polite admiration as they stared at it.

While the neuter led, the two Gizaki women walked with them down the long, ornate hallways to their rooms, chattering with Sha’re all the way. Chattering _with_ Sha’re was probably giving them too much credit; the two Gizaki were doing most of the talking, pausing only long enough for Sha’re to murmur a question or encouragement that unlocked another tumble of words.

The two women seemed nonplussed as the neuter opened a door to a set of chambers. “I would have expected…” the older one said, trailing off. Then she shook her head. She placed her hand over her heart, then extended it forward. 

To Sam’s surprise, Sha’re did the same thing, and the two women each clasped a hand just above the other’s wrist. Sha’re performed the same ritual with the other woman. “I look forward to seeing you at dinner,” she said.

The neuter deposited their bags at the foot of the immense bed and was out the door before Sam could ask it any questions. “Well,” Sam said as Sha’re ran a hand along the heavy wooden footboard, “I hope they don’t expect us all to sleep in this bed.”

Sha’re laughed, but her face didn’t reflect the sound. She pointed at her ear, then at the door. Sam nodded, and pointed to the bathroom.

“Shall we inspect their bathing area?” Sha’re asked.

“Sure,” Sam said, leading her through the side door into the bathroom. It was huge. The shower had nozzles on the wall as well as the ceiling and was easily large enough for three men of Teal’c’s size. It took Sam a moment to figure out how the faucet worked, but once she got a hang of the tug-and-bend motion, the water roared from nozzles all around the shower compartment. “You think they’re listening?” she whispered.

“I would,” Sha’re shrugged. “Will this work?”

“It should help,” Sam breathed back. “But they might get suspicious if we’re both in here for very long.”

Sha’re waved Sam’s comment away. “No. They think we’re lovers,” she said casually.

Sam gaped. “What?” she said, her whisper coming out as the quietest of screams.

“I agree, it is awkward. But I was concerned about the assumptions they might come to were I to try to clarify,” Sha’re whispered.

Sam thought back to Oihane’s comment about Sam’s “partnership” with Sha’re, and Oihane’s subsequent coolness when Sam mentioned they were members of a team. “I think Oihane may have already jumped to a conclusion,” she said, and quickly relayed the conversation.

Sha’re shook her head. “Daniel and I were married because my father leapt to a conclusion from too little data and too many assumptions,” she said. “This will likely happen often.” She started unbuttoning her shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“We can’t let all that water go to waste,” Sha’re said, shedding her shirt, pants and socks quickly. A thin silver ring gleamed on one of her toes. “We can continue our conversation in the shower,” she said, yanking off her sports bra.

“But what if the Colonel and Teal’c come in?” Sam said as Sha’re, dropping her panties to the floor, stepped under the water.

Sha’re grabbed a handful of the jello-like soap and began scrubbing her skin. “Captain Carter, I’m concerned for O’Neill. I’ve seen no men here, only the _hmti.”_

“The what?” Sam asked, confused.

Sha’re opened her mouth to explain. Then she reached toward her crotch with her suds-covered left hand as if gripping something directly in front of her pubic area, and made a chopping motion with her right hand.

“Oh,” Sam said, blushing. “No, they’re not eunuchs. They’re actually born that way. This world has very few men. Oihane’s trying to find a way for them to breed without men at all.”

Sha’re stiffened and looked into the distance, though she didn’t stop soaping up. “If that is the case, I’m afraid we may not see the Colonel and Teal’c for quite some time.”

“Why?” Sam asked urgently.

“Captain Carter, you’re _wasting water_ ,” Sha’re said, visibly upset. 

Sam wondered what the big deal was, then remembered Abydos’ deserts. Sha’re seemed to relax a little as Sam shucked her uniform and ducked under the spray. 

“If they don’t have enough men, why would they give ours back?” Sha’re asked.

“It would be a hostile act,” Sam said, struggling to keep her voice quiet so no listeners would hear it above the sound of the water. “Keeping the Colonel and Teal’c would be like declaring war on us. Besides, it doesn’t make sense. Why keep two men when we can give them sperm samples from thousands?”

Sha’re lathered her hair. “One doesn’t walk to the lake on the horizon when there is water in her flask,” she replied.

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” Sam responded as she scrubbed at her own hair.

Sha’re waggled her hand. “More or less. But the lake on the horizon may be a mirage,” she said. 

“We could be worrying about nothing,” Sam said. “I haven’t even tried to raise them on the radio yet. For all we know, the Colonel and Teal’c will be there when we go to dinner tonight.” 

“And if they’re not?” Sha’re asked.

“Then we ask where they are,” Sam said. “And if they don’t give them back, we go to the Stargate and get reinforcements.”

 

Sha’re’s worst fears were realized when Captain Carter failed to raise Colonel O’Neill via radio. Before they could strategize their next move, the sounds of pipe and drum echoed through the corridor. Captain Carter stood up. “Sounds like mess call to me,” she said. “Maybe the Colonel and Teal’c will be there.” As usual, the captain had no skill at deception; Sha’re could hear in the other woman’s tone just how unlikely she thought the possibility.

The servitor led them to a large room, lined with paintings, where the others were already convening. Across the room, Sha’re could see Nereia and her heir, the younger, square-jawed woman called Bixente. There was no sign of Jack or Teal’c anywhere in the room. Sha’re looked to Carter.

Carter’s jaw was set. “I think it’s time we asked Nereia a few questions,” she said.

They made their way through the crowd. No one treated them as if they were visiting dignitaries; instead they were roundly disregarded. As they reached Nereia, she gave them a chilly smile. An uncomfortable-seeming Bixente shot them an empathetic look, seeming as if she wanted to speak but could not. “Ah, yes,” Nereia said. “Captain Carter, correct? And…”

“Mrs. Jackson,” Sha’re said as Nereia paused.

Rather than continuing the pleasantries, Carter drove straight to the heart of the matter. “Nereia, we haven’t been able to contact the other members of our team for the past several hours.”

Nereia smiled. “They chose to remain behind with our associates for dinner. Unfortunately, the mountains in the area block all kinds of wireless communication.”

“Then we’d appreciate it if we could use your methods of communication to talk to them,” Carter said, her tone pleasant but firm.

Nereia smiled. This time, Sha’re could see the condescending edge to it. “Captain, I can see that you’re new at negotiations. I’m sure your superiors found some fine qualities in you that made them select you as an envoy to a new world. Perhaps if we talk to them to find someone else to negotiate with us, we’ll find out what they are. In the meantime, we’ll try to help you learn better ways to begin discussions.” A servitor tugged at her sleeve; she waved it off. It moved to Bixente’s side and began whispering in her ear.

“I agree this was the wrong way to start off,” said Carter. It was the first time Sha’re had seen her visibly angry. From the way Nereia’s chin rose a little bit and the way the corners of her mouth curled upward just a fraction, Sha’re could see it was just the reaction the Gizaki woman had been aiming for. She couldn’t tell if Carter realized it. “Separating us from the rest of our team is not the way to win our trust.”

“Mother — ” Bixente said softly, an urgent tone in her voice. 

“You are capable, Bixente; please handle it,” Nereia said coolly. The smile never left her face. She turned back to Carter. “I understand you wish to begin with a strong bargaining position. But to threaten war with our planet — ”

“War?” Carter replied, taken aback. “I never said anything about war. I just want to speak to Colonel O’Neill and Teal’c.”

“Of course you do,” Nereia said, in a soothing tone more appropriate in addressing a child than a captain. The more she threw Carter off, the more she seemed to find herself on solid ground. Sha’re prepared to step in; though she was not sure if she could do much better, Nereia might at least have to work a little while to find Sha’re’s weak spots, giving Carter time to regroup.

“Mother!” Bixente hissed, even more urgently. “We must speak _now_.”

“Bixente.” Though the smile stayed on Nereia’s face, her voice held a sharp edge. “It can wait. It’s rude to interrupt in the midst of negotiations.”

“Negotiations?” said a third voice. Sha’re and Carter turned to see an older woman approaching them. She had dark auburn hair, a cool smile, and a large entourage. “Without the rest of the council?” she continued. “Why, Nereia, I think whatever the point of discussion is, it must be very important if you began it without waiting for the rest of us to arrive.”

As Nereia’s jaw clenched, Sha’re realized why the driver of her vehicle had used field glasses to warily watch the horizon when they were first picked up.

The new arrival turned to Sha’re and Carter with a warm smile that Sha’re couldn’t quite trust. “I apologize for House Alazne’s haste in beginning negotiations. Apparently, the message they issued to the rest of the council notifying us of your arrival was lost. I am Alesandese Garaitz Mirare of House Mirare.”

Sha’re saw the tension in Carter’s shoulders loosen slightly. “I’m Captain Samantha Carter. This is Mrs. Sha’re Jackson. I apologize for being brusque, but we were asking Nereia when we could contact the other members of our team,” Carter said.

“Yes,” Sha’re interjected. “The men we came here with may be concerned that they have not heard from us yet.”

She didn’t put any added emphasis on the word _men_ ; she didn’t need to. The mere word was enough to prompt a murmur from the entourage.

Alesandese raised one eyebrow at Nereia. “Well, we can’t have our guests concerned, now, can we? We should bring those men to a neutral location where the entire council can meet them,” she said. 

“As my guests, I bear responsibility for their safety, Alesandese,” Nereia said. The smile remained on her face, but there was ice under her words. “In a central location, I can’t guarantee that they’d be protected.”

“Just bring them here,” Carter said, one hand resting on her hip. “We’re perfectly capable of keeping them safe.”

Alesandese and Nereia both shook their heads. “It would be far too disruptive to have a man in House Alazne,” said Nereia.

“And I must insist that they be brought to some neutral location where all members of the council may have access to them,” Alesandese said.

The entire room went still, waiting to see what happened next. Then another woman in Alesandese’s entourage spoke. “There is a boarding house on House Alazne’s land that sits on the border with House Urrexte.”

Looking equally dissatisfied, Alesandese and Nereia agreed to have Teal’c and O’Neill moved to this location.

“And now,” said Alesandese, with a calm smile that matched the one Nereia almost always wore, “we look forward to the hospitality for which House Alazne is so well-known. If you would show us to our rooms, please?”

 

Talking to Nereia made Sam feel like she was the misfit in junior high all over again. Though Alesandese’s arrival had changed the game, Sam couldn’t trust her; she knew she was just the bargaining chip in a higher-stakes version of a schoolyard battle. The formal dinner hour collapsed into chaos as Alesandese’s entourage was tended to. In the midst of the disruption, a flustered servitor brought Sam and Sha’re to a waiting room for almost a half-hour, then to a different wing of the building. Their new chambers were much larger and more opulent than the ones they’d initially been placed in. Their belongings were already inside. 

“It appears we have just risen significantly in status,” Sha’re said, looking around the room.

“Jeez, I’ve had apartments that were smaller than this room,” Sam said, fingering the heavy, densely embroidered blanket that covered their bed. 

Sha’re nodded. “It is a good sign,” she said, reaching into her bag to pull out a PowerBar. She tossed one to Sam. “I would not be surprised if there were a long delay before we are offered dinner,” she said.

Just as Sam bit into her snack, there was a knock at the door. She looked at Sha’re, who gestured back, chewing, eyes wide. Sam swallowed quickly. “Come in,” she called.

The woman Sha’re had been talking to earlier in the day, Mahats, came through the door. “I’m the closest thing to a neutral party they can find on such short notice,” Mahats said, with an air of amusement as if she found the whole situation absurd. “I was going to apologize for starving you, but it looks like you brought your own. You can eat while we head over to our ‘neutral location.’ Your friends should just be getting there when we arrive.” As Sam eyed her with suspicion, Mahats spread her hands in an apologetic gesture. “If Nereia had told me her half-brained scheme, I would have said something. But I’m the last person she’d confide in.”

“You’re part of the leadership here. Why wouldn’t she talk to you?” Sam asked as they walked.

“I share a grandmother with Nereia, but I also share one with Alesandese,” Mahats said. “Though I work for House Alazne, House Mirare and House Alazne both have equal claim on me. Nereia trusts me like the lamb trusts the wolf.”

Sam looked around at the servitors listening in. “You don’t seem to be worried about repercussions.”

Mahats laughed. “If Nereia pushes me out, I’ll only go to House Mirare. It’s the one thing she wants less than having me in House Alazne.”

“So your system of government is based on familial relations?” Sha’re asked.

Mahats nodded. “Many centuries ago, forty-two houses ruled the land. But over time, the bloodlines began to die off. Until twenty-five years ago, we had thirteen houses. But the heads of House Zavia gave birth to no women, only neuters. They were absorbed into House Alazne.”

“Twelve houses,” Sam said. “If each one has an equal vote…”

“You’re thinking they can’t break a deadlock, and you’d be right,” Mahats said as they walked down the steps into the courtyard and out to the car awaiting them. “It doesn’t help matters when the heads of the two most powerful houses had an affair that ended badly. Entirely ridiculous. Alesandese’s mother wanted to bring House Zavia into House Mirare, and she swore until the day she died that Nereia had done something underhanded to sink the deal. Now each house has its own set of followers, and nothing ever gets done.”

“You don’t sound too fond of Nereia yourself,” Sam said as she ducked into the back of the car. “Why are _you_ in House Alazne?”

Mahats shrugged. “At the time, Nereia had given birth only to neuters. She had no daughter. I was the only possible heir. If I didn’t join House Alazne, it could have died off just like House Zavia.” She leaned back in her seat. The car began to move. “Bixente was very ill when she was young; she was under medical treatment until she was four years old. Unless she has daughters – and I don’t think that will ever happen – House Alazne will pass to my daughters.” 

It took them about twenty minutes to drive to the meeting place, which reminded Sam of a wooded, very expensive resort. As they stepped out of the vehicle, Sha’re asked, “Is this where the men are kept?”

Mahats laughed. “No. Back in the day, a handy way to wipe out a house was to steal or slaughter all its men. No men, no daughters. No daughters, no heirs. We’re more civilized now, but still, each house keeps its men in a secret location. Ours is quite a ways from here.” She smiled at the worried looks on their faces. “Don’t worry. I visited once. If your men have been there, they were kept very comfortably. The environs make this seem like a hovel.”

“You have only visited the men once?” Sha’re asked. “I thought you had several daughters. Did you have twins?”

Sam was stunned at Mahats’ answer.

 

Jack O’Neill knew something fishy was up when they were ushered into their first quarters. The place might have looked like the Ritz and had great room service, but a cell was a cell no matter how it was decorated.  When they were suddenly, unceremoniously rushed from that building to another one across town, this one far less well-appointed, he knew something shady was going on.

That wasn’t his only worry. As Teal’c held out a fist – rock to crush Jack’s scissors – Jack noticed his hands were shaking. “You’re looking a little green around the gills there, buddy. You OK?”

Teal’c’s hand hovered over his abdomen for a moment. “My _prim’ta_ is unsettled,” he said.

“Tell Junior, so am I,” Jack said, staring at the walls. 

Just as he was about to pace the room, once again futilely looking for a way out, Captain Carter and Sha’re came through the door, looking worried. “Glad to see you guys,” Jack said.  “We were getting bored.  I’ve been trying to teach Teal’c to play rock-paper-scissors, but he’s just not getting the hang of it.”

“It is obvious that if rock is placed upon paper, it would cause paper to tear,” Teal’c responded.

“So, what’s news, Captain?” he asked his 2IC.

She cleared her throat.  “Well, on the good side, it seems the people here have technology we could really use. The steam engines they’ve developed run on fairly simple biomass, which could be useful as an alternative to our combustion engines. They’ve also made some leaps in fertility technology that are, quite frankly, amazing. And most of the metal they use on this planet seems to be _naquadah._ ”

“The stuff the Goa’ulds use, right?” Jack asked. When she nodded, he said, “When you say, ‘on the good side’, that means there’s a bad side. I’m betting it has something to do with why Teal’c and I are stuck here in Club Fed. Let’s have it, Carter.”

Carter and Sha’re exchanged a look. “You’re the cultural expert,” Carter said.

“I defer to your rank as second-in-command of this team,” Sha’re said uncomfortably.

“Enough!” Jack said, glaring at both of them. “For cryin’ out loud, just spit it out. Why lock us up?” 

He could see worry in Carter's big blue eyes.  “Sir, when I was walking through the labs this afternoon, one of the Gizaki scientists told me they’ve had a problem with genetic diversity.”

Sha’re took a deep breath. “As you may have noted from the people who met us at the Stargate, there is a shortage of men on this planet. Because men are a rarity, they’re kept in special living situations, away from the general public.”

“The idea of a couple of new donors seems pretty valuable to them,” Carter said.

Jack and Teal’c stared at each other as what Carter said sank in. “ _Donors_?” Jack roared. "You're sayin' they want us for _stud service_?"

“A Jaffa does not…” Teal’c paused long enough to make his disdain palpable “… _perform_ on demand.”

“The Gizaki consider sexual intercourse between a man and a woman perverse at best.” Sha’re snapped back at Teal’c. “You would not be expected to _perform_ for a woman.  They do not want your bodies, only your semen.”

“Because that makes this so much better,” Jack said.

“The situation was much worse several hours ago,” Sha’re said, her words fast and clipped.  “The woman who met us was not the leader of the planet; it appears she was making some sort of a power grab. Now the entire ruling council is aware of your existence and is battling over which of them will have access to you. This is to our benefit. Now that everyone knows you exist, it lessens the probability that you will vanish in the middle of the night.”

“Sweet,” Jack said. He pondered for a minute, drumming his fingers on the table. He was dealing with a planet where the women kept the men under lock and key. He wanted to tell Carter and Sha’re to blow the wall and get them the hell out of there, then wipe the Gate address from the computer when he got back.

But Jack couldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way. During Desert Storm, the US had defended several countries that kept their women in burquas. He’d told Carter to keep an eye out for tech, but he didn’t tell her that, according to Hammond, this trip was one of their last shots at finding a technologically developed intergalactic trading partner before the government pulled the plug. He knew they’d think a few sperm samples in exchange for new metal and new technology was like buying Manhattan with a few beads and seashells. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t making a deal with the devil as he spoke. “Okay, Carter, you’re in charge of the negotiations. I’m sure some sperm bank somewhere is just begging for a government contract. See if you can make a deal for us and the _naquadah_.”

Carter nodded. “They might want to keep you until we bring back the…” she blushed. “You know.”

“Perhaps if you could provide them with significant amounts of semen…” Sha’re said. As Jack and Carter stared at her, she crossed her arms. “I see no reason to dance around the topic with a series of euphemisms.”

“I agree with Sha’re Jackson,” Teal’c said. “We must speak of this directly, O’Neill. I will not provide these people with any of my seed; a Jaffa’s children are his most important legacy. And I do not think you wish for your children to be brought up away from you.”

Jack sighed, thinking briefly of Charlie. He wouldn’t want any kid of his brought up here. He almost countermanded his own order to Carter, then thought of the Stargate being mothballed once again. “Any discussion of _donations_ on our part will be a last resort,” he said. “You have your orders. Keep us posted on your progress.”

“Yes, sir,” Carter said, as they stood up to leave.  Sha’re just nodded.

As the door closed behind them, Jack said to Teal’c, “We’re gonna be in here a while.  Let me teach you another game of manly virility.  It’s called ‘thumb-wrestling.’”

Sam was startled, opening the door to their new room, to find one of the neuter servitors, this one wearing a forest green sash, standing in their room.

“Hi there,” Sam said, startled.

The servitor bowed, holding out a bundle wrapped in green cloth. “Alesandese Garaitz Mirare wishes to extend the hospitality of House Mirare. This clothing is a gift to you, as are the items contained in the basket on your bed. We hope you will use it in good health.”

Sha’re took the bundle from its hands. It bowed and left.

“I’ll check the basket, you check the clothes,” Sam said.

The basket held candles, a bottle of what smelled like heavily scented, musky soap, cheeses, sausages, a jar full of some sort of jam, a bottle of some sort of beverage labeled in unintelligible writing, cloth napkins, two ornate drinking glasses, and a round, flat, unleavened bread. Sam put the candles and soap to the side and broke out the food.

Sha’re shook out the clothing, holding out the well-made, heavily embroidered pants and shirts to show Sam. “Note that the embroidery makes heavy use of the same shade of green the servitor wore, and excludes red entirely.” When Sam raised her eyebrows inquisitively, Sha’re continued, “The servitors in House Alazne wear red sashes.”

“So, if we wear those clothes, it would be like taking sides,” Sam said.

Sha’re nodded. “Quite likely. It is possible it bears no significance, but in such a politically sensitive situation, I think we should perhaps continue wearing neutral clothing.”

Sam spread one napkin out on the bed and placed the food on it. The ceramic top of the bottle was held snugly to its mouth by a metal hinge, like a Grolsch beer bottle. Sam popped the ceramic cork and sniffed. “It’s probably better than Boone’s Farm. Shall we?”

Sha’re nodded. “I am extremely hungry,” she said, sitting across the bed from Sam.

The beverage in the bottle was carbonated and smelled like musky apples. Sha’re drank deeply from her glass and belched loudly. “Not bad,” she said.

Sam took a sip. It tasted like a more pungent apple cider. “I’ve had worse,” she said, then pulled a knife from her pack to slice the cheese and meat. As she cut into the hard sausage, the scents of cinnamon and cumin wafted into the air.

“Sam, why _don’t_ they have any men on this world?” Sha’re said. “Daniel told me of evolution – did they evolve to have three genders?”

Sam shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said, and took a bite of sausage. It had a rich meaty flavor, with a sweet-hot overtone that reminded her of horseradish. “Oihane gave me an overview of the gender distribution on this planet. Just looking at the statistics, I think their neuters are actually men.”

Sha’re chewed thoughtfully on her cheese. “Well,” she mused “in my experience, penises are very obvious, even in small children. Would they not notice?”

“Not necessarily,” Sam said. “I’ve read a couple of articles about a particular group of people on one of the Caribbean islands. Some of their male children appear to have,” she could feel herself begin to blush, “female genitalia until age twelve. Then when they enter puberty, they develop.” She gestured in a vague attempt to illustrate her comment.

Sha’re leaned forward. “What do they develop?” she asked.

Sam looked down, focusing very hard on wrapping a slice of cheese in a piece of bread. “Male genitalia,” she said.

“And by male genitalia, you mean…” Sha’re said quizzically.

Sam took a swig of her cider. “You know.”

“I’m not sure I do,” Sha’re said.

Sam took a deep breath. “The boys developed a penis and testicles.”

“I’m sorry. You’re talking very quietly. I’m not sure I heard you,” Sha’re said, leaning forward.

Sam spoke louder, articulating. “A penis and…” She looked up to see Sha’re smiling, lips sealed, as if stifling a laugh. “Oh, come on.”

Sha’re laughed. “I am sorry. But your reluctance to say these words is very funny.”

“Well,” Sam said, “if that happens on Earth, then maybe something similar is happening here. We can do sex-change surgery – this might require even less surgical intervention. Or maybe none at all, if we could find a hormone cocktail that would transition them into being fully male. Or maybe the Gizaki could, if they stopped thinking of the neuters as a third gender.”

“Perhaps they prefer it this way,” Sha’re said. “After all, men are stronger. They can do so many things we can’t.”

“Yeah, but we can do plenty of things men can’t,” Sam said, draining her glass.

Sha’re shrugged. “We can have babies. I do not know if that is an advantage.”

Sam shook her head. “I don’t mean pregnancy,” she said, scanning the wall. She spotted a chair in the corner. “Ah!” she said. “Come here.”

Sha’re followed her to the chair. Sam stood at the wall and pressed the toe of her left foot against it. She put her right foot behind her left foot, and then her left foot behind her right foot, until she was standing three foot-lengths away from the wall. “Watch,” she said, as she leaned forward to rest her head against the wall.

Sha’re crossed her arms. “You look very silly,” she said.

“Hang on,” Sam said, turning her head to look at Sha’re. “I’m not done.” Sam reached down, picked up the ornately carved chair – which turned out to be far lighter than it looked – and stood up. “See?”

“So?” Sha’re said.

“Men _can’t_ do this,” Sam said. “Once they pick up the chair, they’re stuck. We saw it on _All is the Family_ when I was a kid. My mom and I could do it. My brother couldn’t, and my father pulled a back muscle trying to stand up. He was in bed for a week.”

“Hmmm,” Sha’re said, chewing her thumb. “While that is interesting, I am wondering in what situation it would become a tactical advantage.”

Sam opened her mouth, shut it again, and sat back on the bed. She decided on a change of topic. “So there’s something I’m confused about,” Sam asked as she opened the jar of spread. “Colonel O’Neill’s report said your name was Sha’uri.”

“It was,” Sha’re said. “I changed it.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Shau’ri means ‘finding peace in Ra,’” Sha’re said. 

Sam nodded. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Sha’re means ‘rebellion against Ra. It seemed more appropriate.” She smiled wryly. “My brother’s name means ‘lance of Ra,’ and he tried to change his as well. But he could not get anyone to use the new name he chose.”

“What did he try to change it to?” Sam asked.

Sha’re snickered. “Jack O’Neill.”

 

After breakfast, while Sam left to speak to Nereia and Alessandese, Sha’re wandered the halls looking for Bixente, hoping she could convince the younger woman to lobby her mother on behalf of SG-1. It was a long walk; Nereia’s home seemed larger than Ra’s pyramid, and more attractively appointed. Sha’re looked in a number of places, including a library (where she would have spent the day, if there were not more pressing matters at hand), an informal dining room and a sewing room. From the embroidery on the clothing of the women who occupied each room, it seemed each clan had staked out a common area in which to confer. Conversation died down when she entered, and everyone gave her calculating looks when she arrived. She left quickly.

Finally, Sha’re walked out into a courtyard behind the house and took a deep breath. It wasn’t the hot, arid air of home – it was thick with humidity – but the earthy smell was not unpleasant and she could feel the sun on her face. 

The women gathered here, of diverse houses rather than homogeneously sorted, paid her no attention. They were engrossed in a game, throwing disks of metal at a box with many slots and a statue of a wide-mouthed creature on top. From what Sha’re could see, lobbing the disk into the creature’s mouth got the most points. It seemed, from the way the disks frequently rebounded, that obstacles inside the box often prevented participants from gaining points.

The women here were generally younger than in the other rooms, and women from several houses were waiting to take their turn. Sha’re could see Bixente, half a head taller than almost all the other women, in the center. She seemed to be winning the competition handily. The crowd clapped and hooted as she landed seven coins in a row in the frog’s mouth. The eighth popped out, flying back into the crowd, and Bixente’s audience all uttered sympathetic noises. 

Bixente smiled, shaking her head at her misfortune as the other women patted her on the back. There was something about her warm affability, her sense of humor at herself, something about the way she carried herself, that reminded Sha’re of Jack. Even without her height, she would have stood out; there was some quality about her that Sha’re couldn’t quite put her finger on that was different. Out from under her mother’s shadow, her personal magnetism was noticeable; unlike the older women, she had a coterie of friends from many houses. Sha’re wondered if Nereia had been the same before she’d risen to lead her House.

As Bixente walked toward the refreshment table, Sha’re quietly slipped through the crowd to walk beside her. “I see it did not like the taste of that last one,” Sha’re said quietly.

Bixente turned, smiling at Sha’re. “Ah, our otherworldly friend! Would you like a turn?”

Sha’re smiled, shaking her head. “No. My aim is terrible. I would not want to make you think less of my people. Perhaps when Captain Carter is done speaking to your mother and Alessandese, she can make the attempt.”

Bixente draped one arm casually around Sha’re’s shoulders as they continued their saunter toward the refreshment table. It made Sha’re feel tiny; she only came up to the narrow-hipped woman’s armpit. “I am sorry for my mother’s behavior,” she said softly. “Please believe me, not all of us agree with her decisions.”

As Bixente poured Sha’re a drink, Sha’re searched her face, trying to detect any insincerity. She could see none; Bixente seemed to be motivated by genuine feeling and not political desires.

“Perhaps you could put in a good word with your mother,” Sha’re said quietly. 

The narrowly built woman shook her head, obviously frustrated at the situation. “I’ve tried. So has Mahats. It’s no use. Oihane has told Mother that genetic diversity is the key to our house’s survival, and she does not believe that you will provide us with anything if she releases your men.” She seemed earnest as she said to Sha’re, “If I were in charge, it would be different, I assure you.” 

Sha’re sipped on her cider, wondering to herself if someone so sincere could survive the obviously cutthroat politics of the planet. “What if we were to bring back some genetic material for you?”

“You mean sperm?” Bixente asked.

Apparently, the Tau’ri’s tendency to speak in euphemisms was rubbing off on Sha’re. With a mental note to herself to be more direct, she nodded.

Bixente considered. “I am not sure. Now that Alesandese is involved, it has become a matter of honor for my mother.” She squeezed Sha’re’s hand sympathetically with her large, graceful, well-manicured fingers. “Let me speak to Mother for you. Perhaps I can convince her that an exchange such as this would be to our advantage.”

“Thank you,” Sha’re said, squeezing back. She saw Sam walking across the courtyard and waved.

“So,” Bixente said, leaning in to talk quietly to Sha’re, “is it true what Oihane says? That the four of you are all…” she moved her hand suggestively, “…involved?”

Sha’re smiled and shook her head. “No. On Earth it is considered inappropriate to have any intimate involvement with another person that one works with.”

“Ah!” Bixente said, her eyes lighting back on Sam. A smile brightened her face. “So she is unattached?”

For a moment, Sha’re wondered how Sam would react if she were pursued by Bixente, but decided indulging her curiosity would be inappropriate. “It is also considered inappropriate for Earth people to have relations with those they are negotiating with.” She wasn’t sure if it was true, but from what she’d seen of the Tau’ri, it seemed quite likely.

Bixente shook her head in bewilderment. “How lonely! Let me take my leave of you, or I may try to convince her to break your rules,” Bixente said with a quick smile and one last wistful glance at Sam.

Sha’re watched her leave. “They’re not _my_ rules,” she muttered under her breath, taking a sip of her drink.

“What was that about?” Sam asked, as she walked up to Sha’re.

Sha’re desperately wanted to tell Sam that Bixente was interested in a more intimate form of negotiation, just to see Sam’s reaction, but she held her tongue. “It appears Bixente and Mahats are on our side. However, it may be some time before they convince Nereia. Unfortunately, it does not appear any of the other houses have changed their stance. Did you learn differently?”

Sam shook her head. “No. It’s going slowly. And Oihane told me Nereia has enough supplies to entertain people for months.”

Sha’re shook her head, chest tight with worry. “We do not have months.”

Sam chewed on her lower lip. “I think we might be able to get a week, but that’s it.” She looked at her watch. “Well, if I’ve figured out their time system right, they’re going to let us see the Colonel and Teal’c again in a few minutes. Let’s go.”

 

Sam could see the worry in Colonel O’Neill’s eyes the moment they arrived. “It’s Teal’c,” he said. She’d quickly learned to read the subtleties in his facial expressions; the lines between the Colonel’s eyebrows and the way his lips pressed together spoke volumes.

Teal’c was lying on the bed, skin gray, beads of sweat on his forehead. One hand hovered over his stomach. His breath was fast and shallow.

“What’s wrong?” Sam said, looking from O’Neill to Teal’c. She fought to keep her nose from crinkling in disgust. The stench of putrefaction pervaded the room, as if Teal’c was rotting from the inside. Even Sha’re’s brow was crinkled in concern as she stared at him intently.

Teal’c spoke, his normally powerful voice unexpectedly reedy and weak. Sam knew that Teal’c could take a beating. She couldn’t imagine how bad things must be for him to sound like this. “My symbiote is ill,” he said. “I cannot enter _kel’no’reem_.”

“It’s a meditate-y thing,” Colonel O’Neill said, waving one hand in the air illustratively. “It’s how the Jaffa keep from getting sick.”

“So if you don’t enter this _kel’no’reem_?” Sam said.

“I will die,” Teal’c said.

Sha’re continued to stare at him, her lips pressed together. Sam put a hand on her arm, wanting to reassure her. “We’ll find a way to fix this,” she said.

Sha’re shook her head, eyes narrowing, tapping one finger on her chin. “The Gizaki say that their first deity was murdered by her brother, but he died from some sort of an illness – as did every other deity who came to this planet. What if that wasn’t just a legend?” she asked, her voice getting faster and faster with excitement. Sam realized she’d misread the other woman. She hadn’t been worried about Teal’c; instead, her mind had been furiously putting pieces together. “What if there’s something about this planet that kills the Goa’uld symbiote?” Sha’re continued.

Teal’c slowly pushed himself to a seated position. “It has become much worse since we came here. It as if whatever is disturbing my symbiote has become more intense.”

“Maybe we’re closer to whatever is causing it,” Sam said.

Sha’re nodded. “We know this building is closer to Nereia’s home. Maybe it’s there?” she asked.

“Wait,” Sam said, realization dawning. “That village they’re excavating in the mountains was where these people lived when they were fleeing a Goa’uld who had killed the one that brought them here.”

“Their myths say that every Goa’uld that came here quickly became sick and died,” Sha’re quickly explained to Jack.

“That sculpture they brought back is made of naquadah,” Sam said. “I don’t think they would have had the technology to make it two thousand years ago. It might have been built by the Goa’uld who left them here. Maybe it has a purpose besides looking pretty.”

“Either figure out a way to turn it off, or find a way to get us out of here,” O’Neill said. Though his face stayed calm, Sam could see the worry in his dark eyes as he looked at Teal’c. “Budget, schmudget. If I have to choose between my team coming home safe or bringing some shiny new toy home for the big boys, I pick my team.”

 

Sam wasn’t sure if it was Gizaki tradition to dine family style, with long rectangular tables stretching the long way down the dining hall, benches on either side, or if it was Nereia’s choice. Dinner seemed to be either a series of appetizers or lots of very small courses; it reminded her of the one time she’d been out for tapas. Alesandese and Nereia were seated across from each other at the center of the table, Sha’re and Sam seated beside them, with Bixente and Mahats as their other dining companions.

Sam tried every way she could think of to encourage Nereia to change her mind, short of actual threats, but nothing seemed to work; the woman had a deft and unsettling way of turning Sam’s words around. Though Sha’re continued to smile as she made small talk with Alesandese and Bixente, her brows drew together slightly. Sam wouldn’t have noticed it a month ago but that now she knew meant the other woman was worried. 

From across the table, the tall, willowy Bixente gave Sam a warm smile before turning back to Sha’re. Sha’re’s brow suddenly furrowed as Bixente smiled at Sam, the same way it had when she was staring at Teal’c earlier, but by the time Bixente turned back to Sha’re, she looked calm and cheerful again. Sam wished she could fake her emotions that well. 

Mahats leaned in closer to Sam. “We’re trying,” she said quietly, patting Sam’s knee. “Nereia’s a stubborn old vixen. But Bixente is working furiously in your favor. Give it two, three weeks and you will have your men back.”

Sam felt sick. She knew Teal’c didn’t have two weeks. He didn’t have a week. As conversation swirled around her, she shoved the food on her plate around with her two-tined fork, too sick with worry to eat. They didn’t have enough explosives to blow the wall of the cell the Colonel and Teal’c were held in; Sam was going to have to jury-rig something. She was startled out of her ruminations when she heard Sha’re say her name. 

“Captain Carter showed me the most interesting thing last night,” Sha’re said to Alesandese, her voice pitched loudly enough to carry further down the table. Her voice had gotten louder and louder throughout the evening as Bixente had poured her drinks; Sam thought she was a little tipsy. “It appears that because of some differences between women and men – and neuters – there is a trick that women can do that the others cannot.”

“Really?” Alessandese smiled. “What do you mean?”

Sha’re slid out from her bench and turned toward the wall. A servitor sat on a high-backed chair. “If you would please stand?” she asked. It did. 

“It appears that — ” Sha’re said conversationally to Alessandese. Then she noticed that all eyes were turning to her, and began again with a smile, spreading her hands wide like a magician beginning his stage patter. “As I will demonstrate, there is a certain inherent physical limitation for neuters that does not exist in women.” As Sam had done the night before, she rested her head against the wall, took three steps backward, lifted the chair, then stood. As a couple of women in the room tittered uncomfortably she waved a hand in the air. “I know, it seems silly. I thought so too, when she showed me. But watch.” 

Sha’re gestured at the servitor to do the same thing, quietly talking it through the procedure. It lifted the chair, and then tried to stand. It could not. Beads of sweat broke out on its brow as it tried harder. “Please,” Sha’re said quietly, touching a hand to its arm. “There is no need to injure yourself. You may be seated.”

As the women at the table murmured in surprise, Sam could feel Nereia tense up beside her. She glanced over, confused, and could see that the other woman was visibly paler. Before Sam could ask what was wrong, a woman further down the table clad in a tunic with yellow embroidery spoke dismissively to Sha’re. “You planned this in advance,” she said.

Sha’re smiled, palms held up, cheeks flushed with wine. “I assure you, I did not. But you could ask a servitor you trust to attempt it, and see if I am right.”

Sam saw Nereia’s hands clench in her lap. She looked around, trying to figure out if they’d somehow caused a breach of etiquette. But it seemed the other Gizaki were excited to try a new alien game. Several moved to the walls to test their strength, and the strength of the servitors. As they did, Sam saw Nereia exchange a glance with Bixente, who rose and began to quietly slip toward the doors.

“You must try it!” one of the younger crowd called to Bixente. 

Bixente demurred with a quick smile. “I do not think my mother approves,” she said, glancing at Nereia.

“No, I insist,” Alessandese said, a chilly smile on her face. “You simply _must_ try this.” Suddenly, the room went quiet.

Sam looked back and forth from Alessandese to Bixente, trying to figure out what was going on and why Bixente suddenly looked so frightened. 

“I see no reason for my daughter to participate in such a silly game,” Nereia said, with a fury that seemed way out of proportion to the situation. Her hands gripped the edge of the table. Sam could see Nereia’s knuckles were white.

Alessandese leaned forward over the table. “I suggest Bixente demonstrate her skill at chair-lifting now,” she said, “so we can settle once and for all whether she is the true heir to House Alazne.”

The hall exploded into an uproar. Sam looked around, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. The only person who didn’t seem surprised was Sha’re. Sam suddenly realized her teammate wasn’t tipsy in the slightest. While everyone else in the room was staring at Bixente, Sam could see that Sha’re’s cool attention was focused on Nereia.

“Just because the _alien_ says this is a fact does not mean every woman can do it!” Oihane shouted.

“We can all do it!” a woman from one of the other houses shouted back. “It seems a conclusive test. Show us!”

Bixente fled the room.

“A test of what?” Sam asked, turning to Mahats, who looked stunned. “A test of _what_?”

“They want to test to see if Bixente is really a woman,” Mahats said. She looked over at Sha’re, back to Sam, and then smiled. “And here Nereia had thought the two of you were nothing but earnest bumpkins. Even Alessandese could take a lesson from you. Well-played.”

Sam sat stunned as the dining hall exploded into chaos, trying to get her brain to catch up to what was going on. It had never occurred to her that Bixente wasn’t female. Under her shock, Sam could feel fury building. Sha’re, who was still eyeing Nereia coolly, had never let Sam in on her plan. She’d never even _conferred_ with Sam on what she was going to do. She’d just destroyed the most powerful person in House Alazne who was on their side. Was she trying to get Teal’c killed?

But the surprises weren’t over. At a gesture from Alessandese, four tall, heavily-armed neuters surrounded Nereia. 

“I call an emergency meeting of the council of the twelve houses,” Alessandese said, her rich low voice rising over the chaos in the room, “to discuss the disposition of House Alazne.”

 

Sha’re expected such a meeting to take hours, but in only thirty minutes — a very chilly thirty minutes, during which Sam barely spoke to her — a servitor was at their quarters, leading them to one of the common areas. Mahats sat in a grand chair, still wearing the dress she’d worn to dinner, and immediately Sha’re knew the repercussions of her actions. Mahats gestured at the women to sit.

“Bloodless coups are unheard of on my world,” she said, giving Sha’re and Sam a cool smile, “but you just engineered one. Congratulations.”

“What happened to Nereia?” Sam asked.

“Nereia will have a quiet retirement on a distant property where she will not be giving orders to even the lowliest servitor. I’m now the head of House Alazne,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

Sam looked from Mahats to Sha’re. “Explain to me what just happened.”

Mahats raised her eyebrows, back to her usual amused expression. “Your friend is very good at pretending naivete,” she said to Sha’re.

“Bixente is a neuter, and neuters cannot become the head of a house,” Sha’re told Sam wearily. The adrenalin had worn off; now she just felt tired and sad.

“And Nereia deceived us for years. Oihane finally cracked about ten minutes ago. It turns out that ‘illness’ Bixente had was no illness. They performed surgery on her – on _it_ – from infancy to give it the appearance of a woman. Oihane fed it hormones daily. By purely visual inspection, it looked female – and Nereia never allowed genetic testing of anyone in this house by another house.”

“So what happens to Bixente?” Sam asked, still tense with anger..

“Poor thing, it really wasn’t her – _it’s_ , damn, that’s going to take some getting used to – fault. It will go to live on my country estate. I have no desire to humiliate it,” Mahats said. She put her elbow on the arm of her chair, resting one finger on her temple, looking at the two members of SG-1 assessingly. “But now it appears I am indebted to you. We will bring your men here to meet you, but we request that you go to the Stargate immediately. Nereia was not lying when she said two men could cause chaos and disarray. We keep them cloistered for a reason.”

“Actually,” Sam said, “if you could have them brought to the Stargate, we’d prefer it. We believe the object in the courtyard is the device that was used to disable the Goa’uld that came to this planet, and it may be making Teal’c sick as well.”

Mahats raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps you could send us some experts – female, of course – who could help our teams research the device.”

“Absolutely,” Sam said. Sha’re admired the way she was able to bury her anger to focus on beginning negotiations. “We’ll also send a negotiator with your team. There is the possibility that we could increase your genetic diversity in exchange for access to what you call _eltzairu_ and we call _naquadah_ ,” she said.

Mahats leaned forward. “How much?” Mahats said. “The sperm of a hundred men?”

Sam took a deep breath. “More like thousands. But only if everyone on the Council was given equal opportunity for access and trade.”

It was obvious that Mahats was trying to suppress her excitement. “We would, of course, require our scientists to analyze the samples for motility, sperm density, and morphology.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You know a lot about sperm for a schoolteacher.”

“We all do,” Mahats said, shaking her head. “It is the key to our survival.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam takes issue with Sha're's solution to the problem on Gizak. Sha're's anger with Teal'c for the loss of Daniel threatens the team. Sam and Janet learn about cultural differences while Sha're learns about hangovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Teal’c killed my friends!” Sha’re exclaimed. “He killed my friends, and he took my husband and my brother, and he turned them into evil creatures. Without Teal’c, I would not be here! I would be at home, with Daniel.” She jabbed her index finger at Sam. “And the only one who remembers this is me. Just because he changed his mind, you think he can be trusted. What if he changes his mind again?”
> 
> “It’s not like that,” Sam said. “He risked everything to help us. If it wasn’t Teal’c who took Daniel and Skaara, it would have been some other Jaffa. You know that, Sha’re!”
> 
> “It does not change what he did!” Sha’re said, face red and ugly with anger. “I cannot forget that. I cannot pretend it didn’t happen, even if all of you can. If it were not for Teal’c, I would still be happy on Abydos.”

> ### Mission report, Mrs. Sha’re Jackson, April 15, 1997
> 
> The political handover was entirely peaceful. The current leaders of the Gizaki say they are grateful to SG-1 for uncovering the deception perpetrated by Nereia and breaking the deadlock, and have agreed to a long-term trading treaty.
> 
> ### Mission report, Colonel Jack O’Neill, April 15, 1997
> 
> The technology held by the Gizaki has the potential to be very advantageous. A team of four women will return to the planet to analyze the Goa’uld object and any other relics found on the planet. Dr. Brightman will join the team to try to fix whatever is causing the men to become neuters in the first place.
> 
> ### Mission report, Captain Samantha Carter, April 16, 1997
> 
> Though General Hammond offered me the opportunity to lead the team back to Gizak, and both Mahats and Alessandese indicated they strongly wished to have my presence on the planet, I feel both I and the SGC are better served if I continue as SG-1’s science expert.

 

Sam spotted Sha’re leaving the mess hall, walking down the corridor reading a book. It was the first time she’d seen Sha’re alone in three days. Before the trip to Gizaki, Sam wouldn’t have realized it; now she knew Sha’re was avoiding her. The other woman was a lot more subtle than Sam had given her credit for.

She quickened her steps, catching up to the Abydonian woman. “My office. Now,” Sam said.

Sha’re pressed her lips together briefly. Finger holding her place in the book she was reading, she followed Sam down the hall.

As soon as Sam shut the door to her office, she rounded on Sha’re with all the anger she’d been keeping buried since their last day on Gizak. “You completely back-doored me back there. You didn’t even give me a _clue_ what you were going to do!”

Sha’re seemed irritated. “I did not know myself until after the dinner had begun.”

“Then you should have waited,” Sam said. “You should have discussed it with me that night.”

“If I had warned you, you would have just given it away,” Sha’re said, with a hostile glare. “You are a terrible liar, Sam. Had I told you, Nereia would have known just by looking at your face. She would have stopped me.”

“There shouldn’t have _been_ any lying,” Sam fired back. “We could have used your information for negotiation. Instead we’re responsible for a coup!”

“A bloodless one,” Sha’re said flatly. “The deadlock among the leaders of the Gizaki has ended. Teal’c is now here at the SGC, and that new doctor, Fraiser, says he will get better. And both Mahats and Alessandese are now very positively inclined toward trading with us. I believe General Hammond called it ‘an unqualified success.’”

“But you did it by ruining someone’s life!” Sam said. “And you don’t even care!”

“I do care!” Sha’re shouted, slamming her book on Sam’s desk so hard Sam jumped. “If it were up to me, we would have negotiated slowly, no matter what the cost to Teal’c. In fact, we would have brought Teal’c closer to that device to see if it made him even more ill, so we would know with certainty if it would kill a Goa’uld.”

“Teal’c’s a member of our team!” Sam said, horrified.

“Teal’c killed my friends!” Sha’re exclaimed. “He killed my friends, and he took my husband and my brother, and he turned them into evil creatures. Without Teal’c, I would not be here! I would be at home, with Daniel.” She jabbed her index finger at Sam. “And the only one who remembers this is me. Just because he changed his mind, you think he can be trusted. What if he changes his mind again?”

“It’s not like that,” Sam said. “He risked everything to help us. If it wasn’t Teal’c who took Daniel and Skaara, it would have been some other Jaffa. You know that, Sha’re!”

“It does not change what he did!” Sha’re said, face red and ugly with anger. “I cannot forget that. I cannot pretend it didn’t happen, even if all of you can. If it were not for Teal’c, I would still be happy on Abydos.” 

“You’re not happy here, then,” Sam said, folding her arms.

“Living underground, like some night creature?” Sha’re scoffed. “I am here for only one reason, and that is to get Daniel back. Everything I do is to get him back. If Apophis had not taken him, I would never have come to this place.” Her voice was edged with acid. “The moment I have him back, we will return to Abydos, and you can have your team and your Teal’c and never be worried that I will solve your problems by hurting someone’s feelings.” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

 

When Sha’re arrived at the gym the next morning, she was still enraged. Teal’c was saved, they had the technology that the SGC had demanded, and yet Sam still took her to task for what she’d done? The message that fighting practice was canceled angered Sha’re even more. She strapped on her gloves and hit the punching bag with all her might, fantasizing about quitting the SGC and leaving for Abydos while Sam looked on mournfully.

Not that she could leave, she thought as she struck the punching bag yet again, the force of her blow jarring her arm. Kasuf would keep Abydos’ Stargate sealed for nearly another Earth year. Whatever she did, she was stuck.

If Daniel were here, he’d have done better. The moment they stepped through the Stargate, he would have figured out which Goa’uld had once run the planet they were visiting. In fact, she realized as she paused between punches, stinking with sweat, he probably would have asked Teal’c to list all the living Goa’uld, just so he could cross-check them against the deities he knew. Even if she had been the one taken, Daniel would have immediately seen past his anger and talked to Teal’c. And here they were, six missions in, and she hadn’t thought of it until this moment.

She hit the bag once more, punishingly hard, her anger now turned in on herself. Her shoulders ached.

“Sha’re Jackson. If you are to last long in a fight against your enemy, you must relax your shoulders,” Teal’c said from behind her. They had only been away from Gizak a few days, but already his powerful voice was restored; though quiet, it echoed around the empty gym.

Sha’re dropped her head, closing her eyes. “Yes, I am a failure at fighting. I know this already.”

“On the contrary,” Teal’c said. “You have made much progress since we first met. I did not expect you to learn so quickly.”

Several acid responses came to Sha’re’s mind, but she stifled them all. “Thank you,” she said grudgingly.

“It is I who must thank you,” he said. “I understand that it was you who discovered the secret that freed myself and Colonel O’Neill.”

“Yes,” Sha’re said, gritting her teeth. She still could not look at him. She swung at the punching bag again, bitterly enjoying the jolt the impact sent up her arm. “Apparently I was too ruthless in my actions.” She punched the bag again.

After a pause, Teal’c said quietly, “Do not be angry with the Tau’ri for their softness. They are not like us,” he said.

“Us?” Sha’re said, turning on him. “You are a Jaffa. I was a slave to Ra on a desert world. How are we alike?”

“We are more alike than you will admit,” Teal’c said, his dark eyes intense. “We Jaffa are also slaves to the Goa’uld. The Tau’ri can afford to be soft. They have not been subjugated as you and I were. You and I know that sometimes the best choice is also the cruelest one.”

Sha’re wanted to argue, but Teal’c was right. She nodded. 

“You made a choice that Captain Carter could not have brought herself to make,” Teal’c said. “She will realize someday that it was for the best.”

“Perhaps,” Sha’re nodded, looking at the wall. She took a deep breath. “I would like to sit down with you and ask you the name of every Goa’uld you remember.”

Teal’c nodded, with that little half-bow that had become so familiar. “I would be happy to assist,” he said. He turned to walk away. 

“Wait,” Sha’re said, tugging off her gloves. “You do not want to know why?”

He glanced back at her, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as his mouth, normally so serious, tilted up in a slight smile. “I am sure you have good reasons, Sha’re Jackson.”

Sha’re threw her gloves into the bin. “Ra, Apophis, Mari, Gauecko and Amaunet were all known as gods on Earth. I thought that perhaps, if I could learn from you the name of other Goa’uld System Lords, I could discover how they were known on Earth. Perhaps that would give us some insight into their characters.”

“That is wise of you,” Teal’c said. “When shall we begin?”

This was already the longest conversation Sha’re had had with Teal’c. It was tempting to put off her questioning until later, so she did not have to look at him anymore. But Daniel wouldn’t have done that, she thought. Daniel would sit and talk to him and learn everything there was to know about the Goa’uld.

“Let me shower,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the common room between our quarters in fifteen minutes.”

 

Sam avoided Sha’re for the next week, even after Sha’re came by her office to apologize. Sam could still feel the sting of Sha’re’s harsh words, something a simple apology, no matter how earnest, wasn’t enough to repair. Though Teal’c said he was recovered from whatever had sickened his symbiote, Sam used his illness as an excuse to cancel the sparring sessions for the week. Two angry women practicing fighting was bound to lead to someone winding up in the infirmary. 

When Sam did see Sha’re, the Abydonian woman was surprisingly often in the company of Teal’c, discussing the history of the many Goa’uld throughout the galaxy. It gave Sam an excuse to keep their conversations short, cool and professional. She did her best to ignore the hurt puppy-dog look Sha’re got on her face when she thought Sam wasn’t looking. After a few days, though, Sam’s hurt feelings subsided as well. When the new doctor asked if she wanted to get lunch, she decided to ask Sha’re along. And when Sha’re didn’t pick up the phone, Sam decided she would darn well walk down to the other woman’s office and invite her in person.

The corridors around Sha're's office, as always, were largely deserted.  As the program geared up, Sam imagined that the other offices on this floor would fill with researchers, but right now, Sha're was in the SGC's equivalent of the boondocks. Some sort of syncopated Middle Eastern beat drifted down the hall, nasal singing in a foreign language punctuated by the occasional rhythmically spoken phrase. The music wasn’t loud enough to drown out her hunger; Sam could hear the growling of her own stomach over her footsteps.  

"Hey!" she said, rounding the corner, adopting a chipper tone.  "Janet and I were going to get lunch in a few minutes …" The smile on her face vanished as she saw Sha're staring with a perplexed look at the computer monitor, a mug of coffee at her elbow.  There was a dazed look in the other woman’s eyes as her gaze moved from the computer monitor to Sam's face. Her normally olive skin looked pale. Even in the dim glow of the lamps directed at the desk, Sam could see the shimmer of tears pouring down her face.

Sam closed the door behind her, having long ago learned the most important rule about crying in the military: do it where no one can see. Even if the hallways were deserted, there was always a chance someone would come by. She looked around the room and found a roll of paper towels on a lab bench.  _Better than nothing_ , she thought, tearing one off and bringing it around the back of the desk.  When she rested one hand on Sha're's shoulder, she could feel the younger woman shaking, and her stomach twisted in sympathy.  "Hey, look. I’m sorry. I know you apologized. I’ve been a jerk."

Sha're shook her head, waving Sam’s apology off, and opened one palm repeatedly in a frustrated gesture.  She didn't say a word. She wasn’t sobbing but she wasn’t talking, either.

Sam ran her hand over Sha're's back, stroking her long tumble of dark, wavy hair like Mark had done for her a few months after their mother had died.  "Did –are you hurt?" From the bruises on Sha’re’s arms, it looked like Sha’re and Teal’c had been holding fighting practice without here.

Sha're shook her head again, frantically, and then gasped out, "Culture shock."  Her eyes went wide, and her hand flew to her throat.  Then she closed her eyes again and breathed out a long, relieved sigh.  "I was…I began to type my report on Gizak, and – suddenly I could not understand what I had written in my notebook.  I looked at the words, and they were just – like animal tracks.  My computer just seemed to be a large box of glass and plastic. It seemed suddenly very alien. And then you spoke to me. I tried to answer but I couldn’t make the words come. I couldn’t remember which language I was supposed to speak in."  Her eyes were wide again as she looked up at Sam.

"Maybe you picked up something on Gizak that the infirmary didn’t catch," Sam said, worried.  Teal’c’s illness had been bad enough; if there was some bug floating around the base they were all in trouble.

"No, no," Sha're said.  "It is not from Gizak. It has happened several times.  Dr. MacKenzie tells me it is a normal part of the adjustment process." She sniffled, and then raised her arm to wipe her nose on her sleeve.  Sam suddenly realized she was still holding the paper towel and handed it off to Sha're. “Thank you. I’d forgotten,” Sha’re said. “On Earth you use paper to wipe your nose.” She blew her nose.  "The culture shock will improve. It already has. It happens less frequently now."

"Less frequently?  How much has this been happening to you?'"  Sam's stomach growled again, and she tried to ignore it, moving toward a seat on the other side of the desk.  

"Don't!" Sha're said, her voice strangled. She grabbed Sam’s arm. Sam froze, trying to figure out what artifact she might be disturbing.   "Would you keep patting my back like that?  It helps."

"Sure," Sam said. Cautiously, she put her hand back on her friend's back, patting her gingerly.

Sha're sighed. "Touch is so rare here.  On Abydos, we put our arms around each other, we walk holding hands, we – Daniel explained to me this idea of 'personal space,' but I didn't know it would be so hard." She snorted. "He did not tell me about 'sexual harassment' and 'don't ask, don't tell.' It's as if every time you people touch, you expect to fall over each other like beasts in heat. Even you, Sam. Right now you are touching me as if I were unclean. And supposedly _my_ culture is the one that is primitive." 

Sam 's hand jerked away from Sha're for a moment, burned by her words.  "Hey."

Sha're shook her head, and then rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm.  "I am sorry.  That was unfair.”

“Yeah, it was,” Sam said. 

She shook her head. “Father always said I was as ill-tempered as a lizard with sand in its tail.” She picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, and winced.

"Is it cold?" Sam asked.

Sha're shook her head.  "It's…" She searched for words, and sighed.  "It's awful.  It's so bitter."

"Of course it is," Sam said.  "You're drinking it black."

"How else does one drink it?" Sha're asked.

"Why are you drinking it at all?" Sam countered.

Sha're gave a little shrug.  "It was Daniel's favorite."

Sam looked into the mug.  "Well, Daniel may have liked coffee, but he probably would have poured this down the sink.  First of all, it's commissary coffee, which is about as close to real coffee as…as that crystal that imitated Colonel O'Neill was to being our team leader.  And second, you're drinking it black."

"There's another way to drink it?" Sha're asked.

Suddenly, Sam could feel the emptiness of Sha're's office, of this entire wing of the SGC, like a pressure on her ears.  The mountain seemed like it was weighing down on them, the sound of the music barely keeping it from burying them alive. The sterile air was choking her. “When’s the last time you were outside?” she asked.

“Gizak,” Sha’re said with a grimace. “The closest I come to a cool breeze is when I sit under the vent," she said, pointing up at the HVAC opening in the middle of the ceiling.  A stool was positioned directly under it, next to the lab table. 

“No wonder you’re cranky,” Sam said. She picked up Sha're's phone.  "I came down here to ask you to come to lunch with me and Janet.  But there's a slight change of plan."  

At the brusque "O'Neill here," on the other end of the line, Sam said, "Colonel, permission to take Sha're off base for lunch?"

 

Sha’re looked around her in wonder as they walked down the flagstone path to the broad front porch of the wooden building labeled “The Brazen Bean.” She had never seen a building like it, with ornately carved decoration hanging from every eave. The trim was painted in several complimentary colors, lending a bright and cheery effect. 

“What style of building is this?” she asked as they climbed the steps to the broad wooden porch, lined with columns that held up a wooden roof shading the area. 

“It’s a Victorian,” Sam said. They walked through the front door.

Janet chimed in. “Back in the old days, this was a mansion.” She gestured around her at the coffee bar and cash register. “This would have been the parlor.”

Sha’re had trouble imagining that this home had once belonged to only one family. It seemed better suited to host the clusters of people standing in front of the counter and surrounding the tables in the adjacent chambers. Conversation and loud hisses from the coffee machine filled the room. Sha’re took a deep breath. It didn’t smell sterile and dusty, like the mountain did. It smelled pungent and bitter and full of life. She’d thought, after staying at Jack’s large, empty house and spending time on the Mountain, that most Earth people spent their entire days alone. This was another theory she would need to revise; it appeared they liked to gather together just as much as Abydonians did. She wondered if the SGC was giving her a skewed view of Earth.

“Oh, I _love_ this place!” Janet said, eyes sparkling as she scouted the glass case for a sandwich. They were all dressed in the clothes called _civvies_ ; Sha’re could see at a glance that Janet’s low-slung, flared-leg jeans were more like those worn by the young women in the café than the tight, high-waisted ones Sha’re and Sam wore; Sha’re was glad she wore the hot pink shirt that Janet had loaned her. “Have you tried their Grand Marnier hot chocolates?” Janet asked.

“I…don’t…normally drink with lunch,” Sam said cautiously.

“Oh, no,” Janet said, resting one hand on her arm. “Late at night. You’ve been here, right? At night, this is the best cigar bar in Colorado Springs.”

Sha’re eyed the chalkboard behind the counter. “What is a _Monte Cristo_?” she asked.

“It’s a ham, turkey and cheese sandwich,” said the red-haired man behind the register. He put his elbows on the counter, leaned forward, and smiled daringly at her. “And then we batter it and fry it.”

“That’s not very healthy,” Sam said.

“It sounds perfect,” Sha’re said, smiling back at the spark of challenge in the young man’s eyes. “What kind of a coffee drink should I have with that?”

The barista seemed amused. “Well, what kind of coffee do you like, honey?”

Sha’re’s nose wrinkled. “I do not like coffee. But I am trying.”

“I thought maybe she could try a cappuccino?” Sam asked tentatively.

“No,” Janet said, shaking her head. “A chai latte.”

The barista shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I’ll make you a mocha, honey,” he said, touching her hand for a moment. “With whipped cream. Trust me. It’s the perfect gateway drug.”

Sam ordered a Caesar salad. Janet ordered a caprese sandwich. They both ordered iced coffees. Sha’re watched as Sam handed the man rectangular, green pieces of paper; in return he handed her shiny bits of metal. Sha’re shook her head. 

The barista handed Sam a metal stand with a large number on it, and the women sat at a round table on the wide porch. Janet leaned back in her seat. “I was starting to wonder if Colorado ever got warm!” she said, then looked at Sha’re sympathetically. “You must be freezing,” she said. “Should we go inside?”

“No,” Sha’re said, shaking her head emphatically. She took a deep breath. The air was dry. She could smell just a hint of exhaust, mostly overpowered by the scent of brewing coffee and the warm herbal smell of the gray-green shrubs along the edge of the porch. “I like it out here. And it is not too cold. It gets much colder at night in the desert.” She turned to Sam. “You gave that man several pieces of paper in exchange for our meal.”

Sam nodded. “About twenty dollars. Don’t worry; I can expense it.”

“And he gave you coins back. But the metal in the coins is worth much more than the paper. So is the meal. Is the paper made of something special?” Sha’re asked.

“Not exactly,” Sam said. “It’s money. It’s issued by the government. They declare its value, and then people use it to pay for things.” She tilted her head. “You’ve been paying for your meals at the commissary, haven’t you?”

Sha’re fumbled in her wallet and pulled out the shiny, rectangular card the SGC had given her, the one with the raised numbers on it. “I hand this to the man at the end of the line; it’s what Jack did when he brought me to the commissary the first several days at the SGC. Then the man gives me a piece of paper, and I sign my name on it.” Suddenly, she felt nervous. “I thought I was receiving my food in exchange for the work I did at the SGC. I overheard Jack say that the Air Force pays him in Froot Loops and shiny pine cones.”

Janet laughed out loud at this. Sam looked appalled. “The Air Force is paying you in more than food,” she said.

“Yes,” Sha’re nodded. “They give me a place to sleep, and clothes…”

Something Sha’re had said was still wrong, she realized as she saw Sam drop her head into her hands, blond hair shining in the sun. “Where do I start?” Sam groaned.

“Explain the pieces of paper to me,” Sha’re said. “Someone just prints pictures on pieces of paper, says that it has great value, and everyone believes them?”

“Well, it’s more complicated than that...” Sam began to say.

“Yes,” Janet interrupted. “That’s about right.”

“Can I see this _money_ for a moment?” Sha’re asked.

“Sure,” Sam said, pulling several dollar bills from her wallet.

Sha’re looked them over, inspecting them front and back, holding them up to the light. There was nothing about the drab, rectangular pieces of paper that looked special, or even much that distinguished one from another. “These are almost identical!” Sha’re said.

“That’s how we can tell they’re authentic,” Sam said. “The serial numbers change, and the year of printing changes, and that letter to the left of the face changes depending on where it’s printed.”

Sha’re shook her head. This still didn’t make any sense. “The law of supply and demand states that if you have a large supply of something, its value decreases. Would these not be more valuable if a craftsman made each one look different?”

Sam splayed her hands, palm-up. “There are probably billions of these in circulation,” she said. “They have to print way too many to make each one unique. Plus, if they made each one unique, then there’d be no way to tell if they were real.”

“How would they not be real?” Sha’re said, frustrated. “There would be a real piece of paper, with a real drawing on it.” She looked at one of the bills again, then dropped it on the table. “It would certainly be prettier.”

Sam shot a desperate glance at Janet, who leaned back in her wicker chair, an amused smile on her face. “Oh, no,” she said. “I’m not touching this one with a ten-foot pole. I’m a doctor, not an economist.”

“Well, if each one were unique, you couldn’t tell if it was printed by the government or not. That’s what makes it real money,” Sam said. “Didn’t you have money on Abydos?”

Sha’re couldn’t see the connection. “We had coins. But coins are pieces of metal. If you have enough you can melt them down and make something with them, like a knife or a bowl.” She smiled, shaking her head, and looked down at the paper. “Of if you are my brother, you can chip a small bit off each coin, melt the bits down, and make an additional coin from the scraps of metal.” 

“Well, these take the place of coins,” Sam said. “But they’re worth just as much.”

This circular argument of Sam’s was beginning to give Sha’re a headache. “It is valuable because someone in your government says it is valuable,” she said.

“Yes!” Sam said, a look of relief on her face, as if what Sha’re had said actually explained anything.

The friendly man who had been behind the counter walked up to the table, a large tray in his hand. He placed each woman’s order before her, and then pointed at Sha’re’s cup, which had a dollop of some sort of creamy substance on top. “Try that,” he said.

Sha’re picked up the cup, hesitantly raising it to her mouth. She tried twice to place her mouth on the rim without getting any of the creamy substance on her upper lip, but could not work out how to do it. She buried her upper lip in the thick cream and tilted the cup toward her mouth, taking a large mouthful and bracing herself for something foul.

A flavor like nothing she’d ever experienced exploded across her tongue. It was sweet and bitter at the same time, with a hint of sourness underneath and something rich below it all. The only other time she had experienced something this intense and pleasurable had been when Daniel was touching her. For a moment, everything around her disappeared. The flavor in her mouth was the only sensation she noticed.

When she opened her eyes, Sam was blushing. “I think she likes it,” Janet said with a grin.

“Not the first time my mochas have made a girl do that,” the barista said with a saucy raise of his eyebrow as he turned back into the building.

“People drink this in _public_?” Sha’re gasped.

Sam blushed harder. “Most people’s reactions aren’t as… intense as yours,” she said.

Sha’re took a smaller sip. The flavor was still extraordinary, but she knew what to expect and could control her reaction. “This is wonderful,” she sighed. She looked at the small green pieces of paper on the table. “How do I get some of this money, so I can purchase this for myself?”

“You have money,” Sam said.

“I do?” Sha’re said, confused. “I have not seen any.”

Janet tapped the rectangular silver card Sha’re had left on the table. “That’s how you access it. What did you think it was?”

“I thought it was a different version of these,” she said, pulling her dog tags out from under her shirt.

Sam shook her head, a perplexed look on her face. “You thought they were like dog tags? How would you pay by showing your dog tags?”

Sha’re rolled her eyes. “Well, I _thought_ we were receiving food in exchange for our work, but apparently I was incorrect,” she said, a little testily. She tried to explain things as clearly as possible for Sam. “On Abydos, everyone knew who my father was. If he wanted something at the market, it would be given to him, and then later one of us would pay the vendor with coins or yaffa grains or whatever else they would take in exchange. Since there are so many people here, no one knows anyone on sight. You need this document to prove who you are. The man sees it, and he uses the little computer to mark down what you owe him. Then later you pay him what you owe.” She looked from Janet to Sam. “Is that correct?”

Janet took a sip of her coffee. “Not too far off, really,” she said.

“The card,” Sam said, blue eyes intently fixed on Sha’re’s, “is linked to your bank account. When the cashier ran it through the machine, he was checking to see if Janet had enough money in her bank account to pay for the meal. When you do work, you get paid for it, and your employer – which, for us, is the Air Force – tells the bank how much is supposed to be added to your bank account. And when you buy something using that card, the bank then sends the money to the appropriate person and deducts it from your bank account.”

Once again, this was getting confusing. “So you keep stacks of these,” Sha’re said, tapping the dollar bill in front of her, “in a place called a _bank account_ , and when he runs that card, there is a sensor that identifies how much of it is in that place?”

“No,” Sam said, taking a deep breath. “An account is more like a record that a bank keeps of how much money you have. The machine here just checks to see if the amount is larger than what you need to pay for whatever you’re buying.”

“A record,” Sha’re said suspiciously. “Do they not actually keep the pieces of paper for you?”

“No,” Sam said. “When you get paid, the Air Force doesn’t actually send the bank the physical dollar bills. They just tell the bank how much money should be in your account. And when Janet’s bank pays this restaurant, they won’t actually get any pieces of paper. Janet’s bank will just deduct the amount from her bank balance, and the restaurant’s bank will add it to theirs.”

Sha’re held her head with both hands for a moment, trying to grasp what Sam was saying. “So the Air Force just tells the bank how much money I should have.”

“Yes,” Sam said.

“And Janet’s bank tells this restaurant how much money Janet should have given them.”

“Yes,” Sam said, nodding slowly and smiling.

Sha’re waved a dollar bill in front of Sam. “But no one actually hands pieces of paper to each other. They just pretend that the pieces of paper exist.”

“Well…” Sam said.

“This money is all _imaginary_?” Sha’re said, laughing. “The banks and government just have this fantasy, and you all play along?”

“More like a nightmare, if you’ve looked at my bank account since I started divorce proceedings,” Janet said pithily. “And then there’s credit cards.”

Sam raised an index finger to Janet warningly. “We are not getting into that today,” she said.

“I can’t wait to see you try to explain the stock market,” Janet said, dark eyes sparkling, an undertone of laughter in her voice. 

“Daniel had told me of shared delusions, but I never believed it could be so,” Sha’re said. “But this – this _money_ you all have – you are all just pretending it exists! You all pretend this, and your world functions!”

“Exactly,” Janet said. “Now eat that food. After this, we’re going to go to the mall and trade some pretend money for some real clothes.”

 

Janet’s kitchen was much smaller than the main room at the Brazen Bean, and the bags from their shopping expedition that surrounded the small, round table in the middle made it an even tighter fit, but Sha’re instantly felt at home. As the roar of the blender filled the kitchen, Sha’re put her hands over her ears, her toes curling up in her brand-new chunky-soled Mary Janes, wondering again how the _Tau’ri_ tolerated so much noise. “So that’s when I told Frank he could just head on back to Kentucky,” Janet said loudly over the roar. 

The blender cut out. Efficiently, Janet pressed three large stemmed glasses rim-down onto a plate full of sugar, picked each one up, pulled the blender pitcher off the base, and filled each glass with yellow icy fluid. “Here you go,” she said. “A Fraiser margarita. The key is using Cointreau instead of triple sec, and just a splash of pineapple juice.” She put full glasses in front of Sam and Sha’re, and then looked at the table. “Salsa,” she said firmly, and walked out to her glassed-in porch. “Sorry,” she called, as Sha’re and Sam looked at each other. “Tonight the best I’ve got is hot-house tomatoes.” She brought several in and began chopping.

“You can grow tomatoes? At home?” Sha’re asked.

“You can make salsa? From scratch?” Sam asked, at exactly the same moment.

“Yes, to both your questions,” Janet said, voice tinged with amusement, as it seemed to be more often than not when she talked to the two of them. “I started my tomatoes indoors in January down in Texas. Then they transferred me. I brought the plants up when I moved. I didn’t think they were ever going to forgive me.” She placed a bowl on the table in front of them, along with a plastic bag of tortilla chips. “Dig in,” she said.

Sha’re let out a moan of delight when the flavors hit her tongue. The acidic bite of the tomatoes, the sweet richness of the corn chips, the spice of the onion and something herbal – it was _good_. “I do not understand,” she said around the food in her mouth, “why Daniel was so thin when he came to Abydos.” She swallowed, then reached for another corn chip. “Your food is all so good! And so easy to obtain!” She gestured to Janet’s porch. “You can even grow your food yourself!”

“I figured you would have grown all your own food,” Janet said.

Sha’re shook her head and took a gulp of the tart margarita. This time, she remembered to cover her mouth and stifle her belch before continuing. “It was impossible to grow food anywhere near the naquadah mines. It was a desert,” she said. “There were other villages, far away. They grew food for us. Ra required them to bring it to us. Of course, during lean times, they often kept most of the food for themselves. That is why my father had me marry the son of the leader of one of the farming villages.”

“But you were married to Daniel!” Sam said. “Were you…”

“Oh, no,” Sha’re said, shaking her head. “Ani died only a few months after we were wed. There was a sickness. So his family sent me back to my father, and no other man would have me because it was considered bad luck. Father sent me to Daniel both to try to appease Ra and because if I were wed to one of Ra’s servants it would raise my social standing and give him more bargaining power.”

Sam looked angry. “Your father just used you? Like trading an animal?” 

“It sounds like she volunteered,” Janet said. “It’s not like he was raping her.”

“She was being coerced!” Sam said. “It’s not that far off.”

The comparison shocked Sha’re. “It was nothing like rape!” she said. “What do you mean by that? It is like you are comparing…paying that barista to bring us food and coffee, and killing him to take all his food!”

“Well, that’s a little hyperbolic,” Sam said.

Sha’re shook her head. “What we were doing was an exchange. Rape is…a criminal does it to a woman when he want to hurt her in a way that is even worse than murdering her. The winning army does it to the losing army to show their dominance.”

Sam’s eyes were huge. Janet choked on her margarita. “I’m sorry. The winning army does _what_?” she asked.

Sha’re looked between the two of them. “You don’t do that here?” she asked.

Janet and Sam looked at each other. “Nice to know the whole universe doesn’t share all the baggage that goes with rape,” Janet said. “Let’s call this a cultural difference and move on.” 

Sha’re sipped her margarita. The more she heard about Earth theories on sex, the more alien these people seemed. She made a mental note to review Earth’s cultural biases about rape, and moved back to their original topic. “I was glad to go to Daniel. I wanted to help our village.” She smiled, her cheeks warming. “And I thought Daniel was very handsome. Odd, but handsome.” She gazed into the distance, remembering. “Although for a little while, we thought he might like boys. Father considered sending Skaara to him, though I do not think Skaara would have liked that as much.”

Sam choked, grabbing a napkin and bringing it to her face. “Ow. I just got margarita in my nose,” she said stuffily. “Didn’t it bother you to marry someone you were told to marry, that you barely knew?”

“Some people marry for love,” Sha’re said. “My father was the leader, so Skaara and I knew we would be wed to make alliances.” She shrugged. “So many people who married because of love became unhappy.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Janet said, raising her glass to Sha’re.

“And many of us who married the one we were told to marry found love, after a time,” Sha’re said. She smiled, feeling her face turn red again. “Although most were not as lucky as I was with Daniel. He was so smart, and he liked so very much to explain everything and answer questions, and even ask what I thought.” 

“A man who asks a woman what she thinks,” Janet said. “Now there’s a keeper.”

Sha’re nodded. “Every day, there was always something new to learn. Before Daniel came to Abydos, I had never imagined I could be happy like that. I had just…” She hunched her shoulders, looking down at the table, poking her finger against a few grains of salt. “I had given up, I think.” She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling terribly lonely. She wondered what Daniel would make of her clad in layered camisole tops and low-rise jeans. Would he like it?

“Hey,” Sam said, elbowing Sha’re. “No being sad tonight. We’re going to get Daniel back.”

Janet raised her glass. “To getting Daniel back.”

“To getting Daniel back,” Sha’re and Sam said in unison. All three women drank the rest of their margaritas.

“Well,” Janet said with a smile, “I think that’s the kind of declaration that deserves a tequila shot, don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sam said nervously. “I still need to drive tonight.”

“ _Pfft,”_ Janet said disparagingly. “You can sleep in the guest room, and Sha’re can take the couch. “What do you say, Sha’re. Are you up for it?”

Giddy with friendship and alcohol, Sha’re smiled. “I am always happy to try new things.”

 

Sha’re walked down the hall, reading through Edith Hamilton’s _Mythology_ as she walked, head throbbing. Tequila tasted so much better than the beer her father brewed or the alcohol Skaara had concocted. They had had so much fun when they’d taken the taxi downtown to go out dancing in their new clothes, but she was paying for her pleasure today. 

She had not been as ill as Sam, however, who had spent the last part of the evening after returning from the club being terribly sick in the bathroom. Janet and Sha’re had taken turns stroking her hair when she was in between bouts of vomiting. Sha’re’s memory of that part of the evening was vague, but she thought it was the toast to “women who have the balls to ride a motorcycle” that did Sam in, though she’d enthusiastically shouted it before drinking down.

It had been the happiest she’d been since losing Daniel, and even with the headache she was glad for it, but she had already been behind on her reading. No matter how much she wanted to go to sleep, she had to finish this book today to avoid falling further behind schedule.

Her already limited focus on the book was destroyed when she heard a rich, accented voice spilling out from a speaker.

“Its ongoing mission – to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no one has gone before.”

She remembered Jack O’Neill saying the exact same words on Gizak. She’d thought they were his own. She poked her head into the recreation room, where Sergeant Siler was sitting, watching television.

“What is that?” Sha’re asked. 

Siler looked up from his Cup O’Noodles. “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” he said.

Sha’re cocked her head, listening to the stirring music coming out of the speakers. She looked at the screen. There was some sort of ship flying through space, but never going anywhere. “May I sit down and watch?” she asked, closing her book but keeping a finger in it to hold her place.

“Sure,” Siler said, looking perplexed.

Sha’re sat on the edge of the couch. Over the next hour, she heard the bald man say “Make it so” several times, in the same funny accent Jack O’Neill had once used to say the same thing to Sam.

At the end of the show, there was a short pause for commercials. Then another television show made of drawings followed, featuring a yellow, bald man and his family, and Sha’re heard many more familiar phrases.

After four hours of watching television, Sha’re stood, brain now buzzing as well as throbbing. She walked down the hall, searching for Teal’c. She found him just leaving his quarters, a slender box in his hand.

“Teal’c! Teal’c!” she said. “You will never believe what I have just learned. Do you know where all those strange things Jack says come from?”

“From television programs,” Teal’c replied.

Sha’re was crestfallen. “You knew?” 

Teal’c nodded. “Of course. I have spent many evenings in our recreation area learning about _Tau’ri_ culture.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Sha’re asked, hurt, holding her book to her chest.

“I have invited you several times to join me in the recreation room,” Teal’c said. He glanced down at the book she clung to. “You said that it was more vital to our interests to read your books.”

“But I didn’t know television was _important_!” Sha’re said. “It just seemed to be people staring at a box!”

Teal’c considered this for a minute. “Why do you read the myths and legends of the _Tau’ri_?” he asked.

Two months ago, Sha’re would have answered Teal’c with a snide comment and walked away. Two months ago, they would never have had even this much of a conversation. Now, she answered with sincerity and a little exasperation. “Because the myths and legends can give us insight into the various Goa’uld and the societies they chose to build on other planets. The more we can understand the Goa’uld, the better off we will be when it comes to fighting them.”

Teal’c nodded. “These television shows and movies are the myths of the _Tau’ri_ today. Is it not just as important to understand those you are fighting with as well as those you fight against?”

Sha’re, already overwhelmed by the tasks set out for her, felt tears of despair prickle the corners of her eyes. “But there is no _time_! How can I study their television when I must also read all these books, and learn to fight, and go on missions, and try to understand _money_ and _credit cards_ and _zero-down financing_? I have to learn everything, and there is no time!”

Teal’c smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We Jaffa have a saying. ‘The more one learns, the more one realizes one does not know.’ You will never learn everything, and if you continue to work at this pace, you will tire yourself so that you are unable to learn anything. The most dedicated Jaffa knows he must rest occasionally in order to learn as much as he can. And you, Sha’re Jackson, must learn to rest.”

Sha’re wanted to protest, but her head was throbbing and the words on the page hadn’t made sense even before she’d seen the television shows. “I would rest, but I do not think I can sleep just yet.”

Teal’c nodded. “Join me in the recreation room. I have something that will teach you much about _Tau’ri_ myth,” he said, holding up the thin box in his hand. “It is called _Star Wars_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team is ambushed while exploring a new planet - and that's just the beginning. Can the team save innocents from the Goa'uld and a strange alien device - and save Jack - before it's too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _It should be loud_ , Sha're thought to herself. The gunfire and staff weapon blasts had stopped, and she could hear low grunts from Sam, a growl from Jack, the thud of her own hand striking enemy flesh. It was all so quiet.

The first thing that Sha're noticed when they came through the Gate was the smell, an intense, rich, slightly repugnant scent like nothing she'd ever encountered. The moist air wrapped around them like steaming hot towels. Almost immediately, her T-shirt began to cling to her back, a long puddle dripping down between her shoulder blades, under her backpack and flak jacket. She could feel moisture condensing on her arms. The trees around them were well-spaced, but dripping with moss, filtering the sunlight into a greenish glow. Some distance away, Sha're could see the MALP. 

"Welcome to P3X-488," Jack said, adjusting his field cap. "The temperature here at our destination is a balmy 95 degrees." He trotted down the stairs in front of Sha’re to the ground. "We'd like to thank you for taking Stargate Air –" 

As he stepped onto the ground, Sha’re saw his foot sink in and kept sinking, until he was knee-deep in muck. 

“D’oh!” Sha’re said, applying some of the language she’d picked up from her recent study of television.

"Carter," he called warningly. "I thought the MALP said this dirtball was within acceptable tolerances." He spoke the last two words as if they were some repulsive tidbit of food he was being forced to swallow. "It didn't say anything about marshes."

Sam came down behind him, stopping at the bottom step. "Sir, technically it's a swamp."

"Swamp, marsh, whatever. Explain to me why the MALP didn't warn us we'd be standing knee-deep in muck," he said, climbing back on to the staircase. 

"The sensors don't tell us much about the quality of the ground, sir. Most of what we glean about that is by observation through the cameras. We can normally see when the terrain is poor. But – the MALP should have sunk right to the bottom." She eyed the ground for a second, then looked back over her shoulder. "Teal'c, if I use your staff weapon to check the ground, will I damage it at all?"

He proffered it to her with a little bow. "It will not be damaged, Captain Carter."

Sam moved from one end of the top step to the other, poking the staff weapon in at various points. Sha're tried to help Jack scrape the mud off his pants, but their efforts were largely ineffectual. She soon found her hands and arms coated in the black stuff. "We’ve been slimed," Sha're said.

"One of the perks of being in SG-1," Jack said. "At a spa, you'd pay a hundred bucks for this. So, Carter, what's the prognosis?"

She looked back over her shoulder, "Sir, it seems like there's some sort of road here, just below the surface. It'll be messy, but as long as we test the ground ahead of us, we should be able to scout around."

"In the mud?" Jack responded.

"The MALP showed signs of minerals, sir, and our experimental OAV showed some sort of ruins up ahead. The going shouldn't be too difficult," Sam responded, and then smiled mischievously. "Besides, sir, as you pointed out, we'd have to pay big money for this kind of treatment at home."

"I hated this part of Basic," Jack grumbled as he came down the stairs. This time, he was only calf-deep in the muck.

Sha’re followed him. Under the mud, there was a very solid, hard-packed surface. “Follow the yellow brick road,” she shrugged.

Instead of responding, Jack turned to Teal’c. "Teal’c, you want to take point?"

Teal'c inclined his head in that regal way he had, the same way he inclined his head at Sha're at the beginning and end of their combat training sessions. She smiled a little bit at the juxtaposition of his noble manner and the filth they were about to find themselves covered in, then frowned. She had hated him once, not too long ago, for what he had done to Daniel. Their growing friendship felt somehow disloyal to her husband, and Skaara. 

Sha’re took her place behind Jack as they walked. Before Sam took up the rear, she put one hand on Sha’re’s shoulder. “You might want to dial it back on the cultural references a little,” she said in a low voice.

The team followed Teal'c's lead, walking single file. As the least combat-ready member of the team, Sha’re always walked in the middle so they could defend her. She adjusted her pistol holster a little higher, to ensure it didn't get clogged by the mud, and waded with them between the dense trees.

"It's about another klick to the ruins the OAV showed," Sam said. "So long as it's on this path, it shouldn't be too hard."

"Carter, how can you be so perky?" Jack asked. "This place smells like the trash compactor scene in Star Wars."

Sha’re turned backwards toward Sam, pointing at Jack and opening her eyes wide. “ _He_ uses cultural references!” she whispered.

“Yes, but…” Sam whispered back.

Teal'c suddenly stopped in front of them, jerking his head up to look at the trees around them suspiciously. 

"Hear something?" Jack asked.

"I am unsure," Teal'c responded.

"We'll keep an eye out," Jack said. After a moment Teal'c nodded and moved forward again, testing the ground as they went.

The attack came out of nowhere. A staff weapon bolt scorched through the air, just barely missing Jack. He threw himself down, taking Sha're with him. She was still inhaling as her face hit the swamp water. Murky liquid burned her sinuses and filled her ears, making her pulse as loud as the muted gunfire. She shoved herself back onto her knees, coughing and choking, struggling to quickly push herself to her feet as the air filled with Jaffa battle cries.

When she cleared the mud out of her eyes, she could see Sam shooting at Jaffa soldiers coming from their left-hand side, and Jack firing his MP5 at the Jaffa on the right. The warriors were moving too fast for Sha’re to count them. A Jaffa lunged toward them, only to be taken out by one of Teal'c's staff weapon blasts directly on the chest. Sha’re ducked as another staff blast hurtled toward them. The edge of the energy bolt caught Sam, throwing her down into the muck. She came right back up again, but only got a few more shots off before her gun jammed. 

Sha’re grabbed her pistol, only to find thick mud coating it. She could tell the weapon was a total loss. She swore, shaking the mud off her hand. As she looked around desperately to find something – anything – she could use as a weapon, she saw a Jaffa circling around to get Teal'c from behind."Teal'c, look out!" she cried. 

He turned, but it was too late. The other warrior knocked Teal’c off the path and Teal’cs staff weapon flew out of his hands, splashing away into the muck. Teal'c fell into the swamp and came up, face covered in filth. There would be no time for him to clear his eyes before the other Jaffa killed him.

There was no transition, no decision. She was suddenly standing in front of the Jaffa about to kill Teal'c, past her waist in mud, striking with the heel of her hand at his larynx, some energy sizzling through her body giving her strike extra power. The enemy Jaffa’s eyes widened. He moved to block her, but he was obviously used to defending himself from men his height or larger and the angle was all wrong. Her hand thrust under his strike, and there was a satisfying jolt up to her shoulder as it hit his throat. 

_It should be loud_ , Sha're thought to herself. The gunfire and staff weapon blasts had stopped, and she could hear low grunts from Sam, a growl from Jack, the thud of her own hand striking enemy flesh. It was all so quiet. 

She felt the crunch of cartilage under her hand, and struck again for good measure, wanting to feel the pieces of her enemy’s throat shift and shatter against the sturdy bones of her palm. It was loud now; the rushing noise filled her ears as she grabbed the off-balance warrior and tossed him to his knees. She kept one hand braced on the back of his neck, slammed her knee down onto his spine, and pushed him deep into the swamp. Under her hands, she could feel him fighting for purchase in the mud, fighting to get up, to get his head out from under the surface, and she pushed even harder, throwing all her weight into it. She knew if he could get his feet under him he'd kill Teal'c. 

She cried out wordlessly between clenched teeth, lips pulled back, her voice mingling with the splashing water, as she grabbed her useless gun out of her holster and slammed it as hard as she could through the mud and water into the back of his head. Her chest felt tight and hot. _Stay down, stay down, you bastard_ , she thought _._ Her nostrils were full of the smell of mud and decay. 

The movement under her knee stopped after the second blow with the pistol, but she struck him again and again for good measure. Her ears still filled with gasping snarls. They was her own cries. She stilled her voice and looked up.

Teal'c was covered with mud several shades darker than his skin. His eyes, all the more stark and visible for the contrast, were focused on her with a blazing, unreadable intensity. 

The swamp was quiet again, except for her panting and that of her teammates."Sir, do you think there's more?" Sam said. She was covered with mud, too, her golden hair brown and stringy with it. Her field cap was gone. Her teeth flashed white as she spoke. 

"I'm not makin' any bets," Jack gasped out, sweat already streaking the mud that covered his face. His hat, like Sam’s, was missing. He picked up the MP5 hanging from his neck, then dropped it again, shaking the dripping mud from his hands onto the corpse floating in front of him. "Mine's useless. Yours?"

"Clogged, sir," Sam said. She wavered, her knees crumpling. Jack caught her by the shoulders, and she cried out. As his hand smeared the mud away, Sha’re could see the skin on her upper arm, white and blistered, all the cloth burned away by the staff blast. “How bad is it, sir?” Sam asked.

“Nothing Dr. Fraiser can’t take care of,” Jack said. "Where's your staff weapon, Teal'c?"

Teal'c ducked under the mud momentarily, then came up again, one staff weapon in each hand. "It is here, O'Neill," he said. “As well as one from our enemies.” He extended the other one toward Jack unerringly, even with his eyes closed to protect them from the dripping mud cascading down his face. Jack grabbed it and Teal’c wiped his eyes as clean as he could with his free hand.

"All right. You've got our six,” Jack said. “Let's get back on the path, and then we're heading home, double-time."

As they clambered up onto the road they could feel but not see, Sha're felt a large, strong hand on her shoulder. "You have done well," Teal'c told her in a low voice.

But as she marched again in the middle spot, one arm around Sam’s body to make sure the other woman didn’t fall, Sha’re didn’t feel like she’d done well. She felt dazed, and a little sick. When she had lain in bed at night, imagining what it would be like when she first killed a man, she hadn’t imagined it would be anything like this. She thought she’d kill him at a distance, in a firefight. She thought she’d be distraught that she’d taken a life. 

Instead, she’d drowned a man with her bare hands to save Teal’c’s and she didn’t feel guilty. She felt relieved. Her body was sore, sweat and mud trickling down her neck. She wanted Daniel badly, but not in the wistful way she usually longed for him. She wanted him in a visceral, carnal way, the most basic way to prove that she’d survived. What kind of person was she, that she’d killed a man and didn’t care?

 

Their walk back in the oppressive heat of the thick swamp was quick and silent. Teal’c’s respect for Captain Carter, already great, only grew on the march. He knew from experience just how damaging a staff burn like the one she had just suffered could be. But she remained silent, lips pressed together in pain, dogged in her efforts to slog through the mud and keep up with the team. She would occasionally pause to pour swamp water over her arm in an effort to cool her burns. Though he approved of her determination, Teal’c continually monitored Captain Carter, alert for any signs of weakness or dizziness that might indicate she was going into shock.

Sha’re Jackson, too, had proved herself this day. Had anyone asked him before they embarked on this mission, he would have said she was not yet prepared for hand-to-hand combat. And yet she had shown, when the situation was desperate enough, she could bring herself to do what must be done. It was apparent that neither the women from Earth nor from Abydos should be underestimated.

Colonel O’Neill’s hand flew up, drawing them all to an immediate halt. O’Neill handed his staff weapon to Sha’re, then sank into the swamp until only his head, covered in a vile mix of drying mud and slime that created an effective camouflage, poked above the surface. He slowly slid forward, as subtly as a predator stalking its prey, until he had slipped so far away Teal’c could hardly see him. After a minute, Teal’c could see O’Neill in motion again, coming toward them. It took him several minutes more before he was close enough to speak.

“There’s a pack of Jaffa back there,” he said, standing up. “They must have come around from the other direction. They’re guarding the Gate. No way we’re getting through without –“

In a flash, O’Neill vanished under the water.

Sha’re immediately moved her staff weapon into the ready position, letting go of Sam so she could place her other hand on it. Teal’c spun, his eyes searching the sludgey water for any sign of O’Neill. He saw nothing; the surface was as tranquil and calm as if nothing lay writhing underneath. Then, roughly two paces away, he saw a stream of air bubbles breaking on the surface. 

Teal’c threw himself bodily at the air bubbles, one arm outflung, reaching for any part of O’Neill he could grasp. As the viscous mud flowed over his nose and chin, he felt O’Neill’s jacket under his hand. He curled his fist into it, pulling upwards. Something long and sinuous wrapped around Teal’c’s wrist.

O’Neill came out of the water gasping and choking, a fat, sinuous pink thing wrapped around his neck like a giant slimy tube, the ends extending down his body. It seemed to pulse; parts of it swelled and then grew small as it moved across his throat, gaining traction with tiny feet that seared red marks into O’Neill’s flesh. Its tail, looped over O’Neill’s back and between his legs, was wrapped around Teal’c’s wrist, tugging it downward. It took almost all of Teal’c’s strength to combat its pull.

Bracing himself, Teal’c dropped his staff weapon and wrapped his now free hand around the worm just below O’Neill’s chin, pulling it off his throat. Immediately, Captain Carter was there, working with her good hand to help lift the beast off O’Neill’s shoulder.

“My leg!” O’Neill croaked. 

Teal’c looked down to see the head of the worm, fat and round, jaws almost unhinged. It was lazily gnawing on O’Neill’s leg, every movement sending another pulse through its body. 

Sha’re dropped her own staff weapon and pulled her knife from its thigh holster. She stepped forward and stabbed the worm just behind the head, using the momentum of her movement to add force to the blow, just as Teal’c had taught her. 

O’Neill let out a strangled groan of pain. The worm writhed, its tail lashing. Sha’re grabbed the knife with both hands, pulling sideways to decapitate the beast.  “Gaaaah!” O’Neill cried out between clenched teeth.

Teal’c grasped at the snake, trying to keep its flailing body from injuring O’Neill or Carter in its death throes. Wrapping both fists around the worm, he tore it from O’Neill’s body and flung it deep into the trees as its head fell with a splash. O’Neill fell backwards into the water, slamming Carter to the ground as he went, mud splashing up around both of them.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” O’Neill snarled, one hand holding his wounded leg. “This place is just a _bundle_ of laughs!” He pointed at Sha’re with his free hand as he got to his feet. “Next time, stop stabbing _before_ you hit my leg!”

“Are you all right?” Teal’c asked, lending an arm to O’Neill.

“I can walk,” O’Neill said, shaking off his arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here before that thing’s friends come.” He looked back toward the gate, his eyes fierce and angry. “These guys are protecting something. It’s time for us to find out what it is. Can you make it?” he asked Captain Carter.

Even through the dried mud on her face, Captain Carter looked green around the edges as she held her injured hand with her good one. Livid red marks from the snake’s suckers scarred the back. Teal’c could feel a prickly burn on his wrist from where the snake had wrapped around it. “It doesn’t sound like going to the gate is a good option.” Captain Carter said. “Maybe if we go the other way, we can find out what they’re after.”

“All right,” Colonel O’Neill barked, his anger at the situation seeping through. He grabbed his staff weapon from Sha’re Jackson, who had fished it up out of the muck. “If we stick to the trail, we’re primed for an ambush. Time for a swamp walk.”

Once again, Teal’c dived under the viscous fluid to fetch his staff weapon. His flesh crawled as the slime oozed under his clothing. With O’Neill limping in the lead, they moved off the road and began marching through the waist-deep muck. Teal’c took up the rear, holding his staff weapon above his head to keep it out of the ooze. O’Neill rested his lengthwise across the back of his neck, throwing his arms over it like a man in the stocks.

In very little time, they had returned to the area of their initial fight. O’Neill wearily raised one hand, pulling them all to a stop.

“All right, Teal’c,” he said, pushing aside the dead body that floated at the surface of the swamp. “Whose Jaffa are these?”

Teal’c looked at the triangular symbol on the corpse’s forehead. “This Jaffa wears the symbol of Pelops.”

“It’s a triangle?” O’Neill asked.

“According to the ancient Greeks, Pelops was revived from the dead when only his shoulder blade remained,” Sha’re said.

O’Neill looked at her incredulously. “ _What_?” he asked.

“You _Tau’ri_ make up these stories,” Sha’re said acerbically. “I merely report them.”

Teal’c looked back at the corpse. The symbol on its forehead was blurred around the edges. “Wait,” he said, brushing the fading marking with his thumb. The ink moved, exposing another mark underneath. He rubbed harder. “Beneath, this Jaffa wears the emblem of Nirrti.” 

“I haven’t even met that woman and I hate her,” O’Neill said. “Why would she want people to think that it was Pelops who was digging around this planet?”

Teal’c merely raised an eyebrow at him.

“Right,” O’Neill sighed wearily. “Let’s go find out.” He set out again, his limp more pronounced.

They slogged through the swamp for roughly another half mile. The humid air condensed on Teal’c’s skin, and mud crawled under his clothing and coated his body, almost a living thing. He did his best to ignore it. Finally, the land they were on began to rise, transitioning from watery swamp to thick mud. Their boots squelched as they walked.

O’Neill grabbed a tree and pulled himself up on a hummock to gaze into the distance. “The road starts going up a hill,” he said. “We should be able to — ” He suddenly made a loud retching noise and doubled over, vomiting violently.

Teal’c raced to O’Neill’s side, putting one arm around him to steady him. “I’ll be fine,” O’Neill said breathlessly, weakly pushing Teal’c away and wiping off his mouth. “It’s just the heat. Give me a minute.”

“It is not the heat,” Teal’c said sternly. “I have seen this reaction before.”

“So have I,” Captain Carter said. She slogged through the mud to where Colonel O’Neill slowly sagged to the ground. “Whatever that thing was, I think it was toxic.” She held out her hand. The flesh was swelling rapidly, angry red streaks reaching up her wrist toward the burns above. The marks on Teal’c’s own wrist were less livid, probably due to the work of his symbiote.

“We’ve gotta keep moving,” O’Neill said, struggling to stand.

“No!” Carter said. Teal’c placed a heavy hand on O’Neill’s shoulder to keep him on the ground. 

Carter leaned against a tree, looking almost as unwell as O’Neill. “Sir, you have to stay still. We need to keep you immobilized and keep your heart rate as slow as possible to keep the venom from spreading.”

“Is there something that can cure it?” Sha’re asked.

Carter shook her head. “We can try.” Slowly, she lowered herself into a squatting position. “The medical kit is in my pack. Just – please, watch out for my arm.”

Sha’re went through the pack with care, but Captain Carter still let out several hisses of pain before Sha’re found the medical kit.

Carter shook her head as she opened the medical kit. “So much for sterile conditions,” she said, trying to shake some of the mud off her hands. She loaded an ampoule into the syringe, then injected it into O’Neill’s leg. “This is a broad-spectrum antivenom. But it’s geared toward Earth snakes, _and_ it’s experimental. We have no guarantee that it will work.”

“Great,” O’Neill said, looking like he was about to vomit again. “We still need to find a way off this dirtball.”

Teal’c nodded, making sure his face did not reflect the worry he felt. If they could not fight off the Jaffa at the Stargate with three healthy team members, they certainly could not do so with only two. “Colonel O’Neill, Captain Carter, wait here,” he said. “Sha’re Jackson and I will explore ahead to see if we can find something that may assist us.” 

Sha’re’s eyes went wide at this statement, but she stood up and slogged through the mud to join Teal’c.

The drying mud provided excellent camouflage; Sha’re seemed to blend into the surrounding foliage as they moved, her long braid a stiff and filthy rope. They forged their way through the underbrush, eventually rejoining the path. It narrowed suddenly, the edge perhaps sheered off by an ancient land slide. Peering over it, he saw a tree growing out of the side of the hill roughly ten feet below them, and a ledge roughly ten feet beneath that. Below the ledge, a sheer drop of a hundred feet or more ended in scrubby trees amidst rocks.

“Do you have an idea?” Sha’re asked.

“Perhaps,” Teal’c said. “Let us see what lies before us.”

At the crest of the hill, the trees thinned. Sha’re and Teal’c crawled on their bellies for the last several feet. They peered through their field glasses at the ruins below. Several Jaffa stood in the midst of them, waving weapons at a group of some sort of villagers.

“Teal’c,” Sha’re said excitedly, looking at the stone remnants of some sort of structure, “the symbols on the stones – do you remember the markings on Ernst’s planet that were left behind by the Ancients? I think those are the same kind!”  

Teal’c nodded, focusing his field glasses on the people rather than the structures. Roughly twenty civilians, mostly dressed in tunics and pants, were being forced into an organized line by six Jaffa. “It appears much of the Jaffa unit was guarding the pathway through the swamp. We have significantly depleted their number.”

“There are six of them, two of us, and we have but one staff weapon,” Sha’re said. “Those are not good odds.” She peered closer. “But why have they brought these people here?”

A Jaffa roughly dragged the first person in line, a young man with short, tightly curled hair towards a stone wall. The villager struggled; the Jaffa struck him in the head, and he crumpled, stunned, blood trickling down his dark cheek. 

“There’s some sort of emblem on the wall,” Sha’re said. Teal’c looked through his own field glasses at the object. It was roughly round in shape, and protruded from the wall in a series of ridges. Its center glowed. The man, held up by the Jaffa, stared at it for a minute, but nothing happened. The Jaffa shoved the man to the ground, grabbing for the next civilian.

A woman in a brick-colored tunic broke from the middle of the line and ran straight at the leader of the Jaffa, shouting angrily. What she said was unclear; what happened next was not. The Jaffa grabbed her by the arm, pulling her toward the emblem on the wall, and shoved her in front of it.

“I don’t know what the device does,” Sha’re said. “Perhaps he is trying to get the people to read it –“

The apparatus suddenly reached out and grabbed the woman around the skull. Sha’re gasped. The woman briefly struggled, then stopped. After about a minute, it released her. She sagged to the ground, dark skin gone ashy. “What was that? Teal’c, what was that thing?” Sha’re asked urgently.

“I do not know,” Teal’c said. He focused on what transpired below. The woman’s eyelids fluttered as two of her compatriots, at the direction of the Jaffa, pulled her to her feet. “She appears to be semi-conscious,” he said.

The Jaffa gestured threateningly for the rest of the villagers to form into a line. “Will they bring them back to the Stargate now?” Sha’re asked.

Teal’c shook his head grimly, thinking of missions he had executed for Apophis. “If they have what they want, they shall kill most of these people. They will likely fire on most in the swamp and leave their bodies behind to rot. The rest will be killed once they finish carrying the woman to the Stargate.”

Sha’re looked at Teal’c in horror. “We cannot let them do this,” she said.

Teal’c nodded. “I think I know how we may stop them,” he said, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders and reaching inside. “But we must hope these people will take advantage when opportunity arises.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, the downtrodden prisoners shuffled, two abreast, along the steep path up the hill. Two of them had the dark-haired woman slung between them. She seemed to be slowly returning to consciousness, moving at least partially under her own power. Two Jaffa walked in front of the group, presumably to keep those in the lead from running ahead and away; four Jaffa took up the rear. Birds sang in the trees, oblivious to the distress of the people below them. 

The group reached the crest of the hill and began descending the other side, where the outer edge of the path had sheared off. The lead Jaffa on the outside edge walked around an upthrust stone in the path, closer to the warrior beside him. Above them, a bird let out a sudden fluting trill as the two warriors stepped on a cleverly camouflaged tarp that lay across the path.

Sha’re heard Teal’c’s signal as she perched in the tree that jutted out from the side of the cliff. She grasped the dirty, mud-covered rope that was tied to the edge of the tarp and leapt from the branch, using her weight and momentum to pull the tarp off the road as she plummeted to the ledge below. Just like characters in a slapstick comedy who’d had a rug pulled out from under them, the two Jaffa hurtled off the path. As they fell to the rocks below, one Jaffa’s boot connected with Sha’re’s shoulder. She fell to the ledge, dropping the rope, and just barely managed to stop her slide before she went over with them.

She heard staff weapon fire from above, and looked up to see first one and then another Jaffa hurtle off the ledge. She could just barely make out the action on the path. As the two remaining Jaffa turned to attack the new threat, a quick-thinking prisoner removed the scarf he wore and threw it around the neck of the Jaffa before him, choking him. Another grabbed a rock and hurtled it at the second Jaffa’s head, sending him to his knees. Teal’c, taking advantage of the distraction, shot the Jaffa. The prisoners, seeming far less downtrodden now, needed no help dispatching the one warrior that remained.

The man who had choked the Jaffa picked up a staff weapon and aimed it at Teal’c warily. “Who are you? Why are you rescuing us?” he asked.

“We are friends,” said Teal’c, gently pushing the tip of the staff weapon aside. He peered over the ledge, nodding proudly at Sha’re. “You have done well,” he said.

“I could have done better,” Sha’re said, although she laughed with relief. “The rope fell along with the Jaffa. How do I get back up?”

 

Teal’c quickly found a solution to Sha’re’s predicament. Through the creative use of knotted clothing, Teal’c and the former prisoners, who called themselves the Bangere, pulled Sha’re up from her perch on the ledge. He directed others to gather what weapons they could from the dead Jaffa; though several warriors had hurtled to the rocks below, there were still enough staff weapons to equip three of the Bangere as well as Sha’re and Teal’c.

In the midst of it, Alizah, the dark-haired leader of the Bangere, and her pale husband, Malvek, who had choked the Jaffa, told Teal’c and Sha’re what had happened to them.

“Pelops’ warriors just came through the gate one day. They pricked our fingers,” Malvek said, turning his hand over, “and they put the needle into a machine.”

“They must have been looking for something in our blood,” Alizah said. “And whatever it was, they found it in all of us.”

“They told us if we didn’t come, they’d kill everyone else in our village,” Malvek said.

“Do you know what that device did?” Sha’re asked Alizah as they descended the path toward the swamp.

The other woman shook her head. “No idea,” she said. “I remember seeing flashing lights, and…” She squinted, as if trying to see something in the distance. “Sorry. Nothing else,” she said.

Even though Teal’c was looking for O’Neill and Carter where they had remained, the mud disguised them so well that he did not see them until Carter moved. “You’re back,” she said weakly, getting to her feet after two tries.

“And you are unwell,” Teal’c said.

“I could be worse,” Carter said, looking at O’Neill. He was unconscious, his breathing rapid, with an audible wheeze. “His leg is still bleeding and he has fluid in his lungs,” she said. “We need to get him back to the SGC as soon as possible.”

“My people can carry him,” Alizah said, gesturing to the burliest of the Bangere, who came forward and lifted Jack over his shoulder.

Teal’c nodded. “We will need one to help Captain Carter as well,” he said.

Alizah smiled. “I think I can handle that,” she said.

“After what just happened –“ Malvek said.

Alizah cut him off, in the way people do only with those they have loved for many years. “I’m _fine_ , dear,” she said tersely, leaning down to hook her arm around Sam’s body and help her to her feet. “Let’s just get out of here and get the hell home.”

Teal’c took the lead, sending Sha’re to cover the rear. The large group moved quickly through the swamp. As they neared the Stargate, Teal’c waved everyone to a halt.  Holding his breath, he ducked down until only his eyes and the top of his head were above the water. Then he glided to where he could observe the guards.

Six Jaffa stood on guard around the Stargate. They did not seem to expect an attack from the woods; their focus was on the stone circle in the center and the MALP on the path. They must have been on patrol when SG-1 had first arrived, Teal’c thought. He made his way back to the people waiting for him. 

“There are six Jaffa guarding the Stargate,” Teal’c said to Alizah. “I will need your finest warriors to assist me in defeating them.”

Alizah gestured to two men and a woman, who quickly forded over. “It’ll be good to get some of our own back,” she said with a bloodthirsty smile.

He turned to Sha’re. “As soon as you see a clear path, you must dial the Stargate. We have no way of knowing if there are more Jaffa on patrol. You must go through the Stargate first, to let Earth know we are bringing more people than they expect.”

Sha’re nodded. “Right,” she said. 

Teal’c led the warriors between the trees, deep into the chest-high swamp. They stayed low in the water. Taking aim at the nearest Jaffa, Teal’c fired. Soon the clearing filled with staff blasts. Two Jaffa fell, then one of the Bangere was hit.

As the fighting moved to one side of the clearing, Sha’re raced to the DHD, punching in the code for Earth. The Stargate opened. As Sha’re raced across the clearing, slapping the GDO on her wrist, Teal’c saw a Jaffa that had been hidden in the trees take aim at her. He turned to fire at the hidden sniper, already knowing he was too late. 

A staff blast burst from the brush where the rest of the group was hidden. The Jaffa hurtled through the air, splashing in the muck, dead. In the bushes, O’Neill pushed himself to his feet with the still-going staff weapon he’d just used, then bent over inelegantly to vomit into the swamp.

Sha’re raced through the Stargate. Teal’c waved Alizah, supporting Captain Carter with one arm, and her group forward. Then he grabbed O’Neill, lifting him with both arms. “Do not vomit on me, O’Neill,” he said.

“Then don’t bounce me,” O’Neill shot back, voice weak.

Though Teal’c kept O’Neill steady, the wormhole was not so kind. Fortunately for Teal’c — and unfortunately for Dr. Fraiser, who had raced to their aide — Colonel O’Neill turned his face away from Teal’c before vomiting on the doctor and the Stargate’s ramp.

 

Sha’re empathized with the Bangere, who wanted to go home the moment they reached Earth. Even after all this time, she, too, sometimes found the SGC uncomfortably claustrophobic, though not to the level of the Bangeres, some of whom needed mild tranquilizers to damp down panic attacks. She made sure to keep them updated on the progress Sergeant Davis and Lieutenant Simmons – with some assistance from Sam, who’d had them bring her laptop to the infirmary over Dr. Fraiser’s protests – were making on figuring out the gate address for the Bangere planet. 

Though Teal’c and Sha’re worked hard to buoy the spirits of their new guests with pizza and burritos, _Star Wars_ and _The Lion King_ , the three days of waiting were interminable for the Bangere, and tempers frayed. When Sha’re went to Malvek and Alizah’s temporary quarters to bring them the good news that Captain Carter’s team had found the address, she could hear through the door the couple arguing fiercely, and realized it wasn’t just claustrophobia that had set Bangere nerves on edge.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, honey,” Malvek said. His voice was tense.

“The _astria porta_!” Alizah said, her voice full of frustration. “I just want to know when we will _remeo_. Is that so much to ask?”

Sha’re tentatively knocked on the door. Malvek opened it with more force than was strictly necessary. “Hello,” he said awkwardly.

“Maybe she can _retus_ ,” Alizah said. 

Sha’re looked at her uneasily. It had been a very long while since she’d heard so many untranslatable words in such a short time. “I came to tell you that we’ve found your Gate address. We’ll be able to send you home in just a few hours.”

“Finally,” Malvek said in relief. “We’ll be ready to go almost immediately.”

He began to shut the door, but Sha’re stopped him. “Before I go, I have a question.” She looked from Alizah to Malvek. “Alizah said _retus_. It’s a word I’m unfamiliar with. What does it mean?”

“I didn’t say any such thing,” Alizah said.

“Yes, you did, honey,” Malvek said testily.

Sha’re pressed her index finger against her lips. “And you used another term,” she said, “ _Astria porta_. I am not sure what this means, either.”

“ _Astria porta_!” Alizah said, shrugging. “It’s the large, round ring. You walk through it, and it takes you to a _navo locus_.”

 _Many Earth languages come from the same root,_ Daniel had said to her on Abydos while teaching her to use a dictionary. _Even if you aren’t sure what the word means, even if it’s in another language, if you can figure out what the root is, you should be able to come up with a good guess._ It was clear from what Alizah said that _astria porta_ meant the Stargate, and Sha’re could take a guess at the rest. “ _Locus_ ,” Sha’re said. “That sounds like _location_. A place?”

“Yes!” Alizah said.

The only thing Sha’re could come up with for _navo_ was _navy._ But she was fairly sure the woman didn’t mean _blue_ or something to do with the ocean. _Context_. That was the other thing Daniel had taught her as she had tried to learn English – once you knew enough of the words in a sentence, you could fill in the blanks. “A new place?” Sha’re asked.

Alizah pointed at her. “Yes!” she said, frustrated, as if this should have been self-evident.

Sha’re tried not to sound as worried as she felt. “Perhaps we should have Dr. Fraiser take another look at Alizah,” she said. “Before you go. Just as a formality.”

Malvek put his arm protectively around his wife. “Your doctor said that Alizah was fine.”

“I _am_ fine!” Alizah said.

Sha’re nodded. “I understand that you don’t want to be away from home any longer. But there may be some latent effects from the machine on P3X-488, something Dr. Fraiser didn’t detect the first time. If you can just let her do another MRI…”

“That loud tube?” Alizah said, bringing her hands up to her ears as if trying to protect her hearing.

“I know it is unpleasant,” Sha’re said, trying to be soothing. “I am not fond of it either. But if you can just let us check — ”

“But you just said we could go home in a couple of hours,” Malvek said.

“Which is what I was asking!” Alizah said, playfully whacking him on the arm.

“Now that we know your gate address, we can send you home tomorrow if you need some sort of medical treatment,” Sha’re said.

“Stay _here_?” Alizah said. “This is like being buried in a _sevtelcarum_!” She covered her mouth, looking at Sha’re in embarrassment. “No offense,” she said. “I don’t mean to insult your planet.”

Sha’re shook her head. “None taken,” she said, making a mental note of the word _sevtelcarum_. “Most of us do not live here. Outside, it is actually quite pleasant.”

“I’m sure it is,” Alizah said. “But we don’t want to stay here any longer. We’d like to go home.”

 

When Sha’re got to the Gate room, the Bangere were already gathered there, accompanied by Teal’c. Their excited conversation bounced off the walls.  Sha’re wandered through the group until she found Malvek and pulled him aside. 

She handed a tape recorder and a bag of blank tapes to Malvek. “Please, record what she says.” Sha’re said. “You have watched me do this. When one tape is full, place the next in the tape recorder. Send them back to us in a few days. We may be able to learn something.”

Malvek looked at the tape, then looked at his wife. “Once we get her back home, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he said, the lines of worry on his face belying his confident words.

“Of course,” Sha’re said, pretending an assurance she did not feel. “But, please, take it anyway.”

Reluctantly, he took the sack from her hands. The Stargate whooshed open.

As the Bangere rushed toward the open wormhole, obviously excited to head home, Alizah turned in the other direction, looking for Sha’re. She walked over, taking both of Sha’re’s hands. She smiled warmly, all ill-tempered anxiety gone now that she was leaving for home. “Thank you for all your help,” she said, hugging Sha’re. Malvek gave Teal’c a hearty slap on the back.

Sha’re nodded. “Please, if you need anything, contact us.”

“ _Nimeriah_ ,” Alizah said. It was obvious the woman was unaware she had switched languages. With a cheery wave, she took her husband’s hand and walked through the Stargate. Sha’re looked after her worriedly, arms wrapped around herself. The Stargate closed in their wake.

Teal’c placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “You have done what you can,” he said, guiding her out of the Gate room. “Your worry will not remedy their situation.”

“It is one thing to say, and another to do,” Sha’re said.

“Perhaps during our mandatory rest leave this week, you will find a way to distract yourself,” Teal’c said.

Sha’re nodded. “Maybe,” she said, as they stepped into the elevator. “I have a great deal of reading to catch up on.”

“We have also received the third season of _The Adventures of Brisco County Junior_ on DVD,” Teal’c said.

Sha’re smiled. “Perhaps we can spend an evening watching it. But not Wednesday. Sam has promised to teach me to drive.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack decides to teach Sha're to drive. The team learns Teal'c's biggest secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teal’c fixed her with an icy glare. “Until recently, Sha’re Jackson, you hated me. You made no secret of this. Just because you have begun to trust me does not mean I need to share all my secrets with you.”
> 
> Sha’re was caught flat-footed. “But I – we dine together almost every evening. We work out together. We talk in the rec room. I thought –”
> 
> “You thought that was all you needed to do to gain my trust.” The look he gave her was not angry; it was more complicated than that. It left her feeling young and unsure, and very small. “I have worked very hard to gain your trust, Sha’re Jackson. What have you done to gain mine?”

Sam carefully closed her office door, stuffing her jacket along its base to make sure the glow of the lights didn’t leak into the hall. She’d told Janet, who had ordered the team onto a mandatory five-day rest leave, that she was incommunicado today at a spa. But she knew tinkering with the new Goa’uld device SG-4 had found would be much more relaxing than a Shiatsu massage. Using both hands, she hefted the ornate object off the table to get a look at its base.

She nearly dropped it as O’Neill spoke behind her. “What’s your plans for your days off, Carter?” he asked, his tone studiedly casual.

“Darn it!” Sam said under her breath, placing the Goa’uld object back on the table and turning around. She hadn’t even had the chance to pull out her laptop before she got caught. She put on a big smile, hoping she could finesse her way into just a few more hours in her lab. “I was just going to spend a few minutes wrapping things up here, sir…”

Colonel O’Neill stood in the doorway, dressed in a leather bomber jacket and jeans, the jacket she’d stuffed under the doorjamb hanging from one of his fingers. The look he gave her was the same look her father used to give her when he caught her reading under the covers. Sam wondered if they issued it along with the eagle pins when soldiers were promoted to Colonel. “Carter, there’s fish out there that are calling my name, and I can’t leave the Mountain until you leave. Go home,” he said, shooing at her with his hands. “Tinker with your motorcycle. I’m sure it’s feeling lonely.”

Sam sighed, giving the Goa’uld device one last longing look, then grabbed her keys. The bandage on her shoulder made a crinkling sound. “Actually, Sha’re wants to learn how to drive. I’m going to take her out in a parking lot tomorrow and get her started.”

O’Neill shook his head, handing her jacket to her. “Not you. If anyone is going to teach her to drive, it’ll be me. I’m the closest thing to an adult this team has.”

Sam looked at him incredulously. “Sir, you eat Froot Loops and watch cartoons. And I think Teal’c is older than you.”

“Ah!” O’Neill said, raising a finger to cut her off. “I’m still in charge here. Or so Hammond tells me whenever he chews me out. Besides, I know all about your speeding tickets, including the ones you talked your way out of.”

“Sir, those were on country roads. They were practically empty,” Sam said defensively.

“Except for the _police officers_ ,” O’Neill said tartly. “If I let you teach her to drive, she’s going to get her first speeding ticket before she gets her permit. No, someone’s gotta teach her to be responsible, and that’s me.”

Carter nodded. “Yes, sir.” As O’Neill waved her out of the room, turning out the lights to the lab as she stepped into the hallway, she muttered under her breath, “Those who can’t do, teach.”

 

“You are not getting a motorcycle!” Jack told Sha’re as he sat down on the passenger side of his truck. It had been a long time since he’d seen the road from this side of a vehicle. True, in this case it was just a community college parking lot, but it was still disconcerting. “You’ll break your neck. It’s too dangerous.”

“And getting shot at by Jaffa isn’t?” Sha’re asked. “Motorcycles look like fun. And Sam rides one.”

“And if Carter decided to bungee-jump off the Royal Springs Bridge, would you jump too?” Sha’re’s eyes sparkled with excitement. He kicked himself for giving her ideas. “Don’t answer that,” he said flatly, then tried a different tack. “A truck can be plenty of fun,” he said, stabbing his finger at the dashboard for emphasis. “So can a Volvo. I’m not gonna let you put your life in danger just to look cool.”

“You taught my brother to smoke, Jack!” Sha’re said in an exasperated tone.

Jack waved her comment away. “I was a different man back then,” he said. “Do you want to argue all day, or do you want to learn to drive?”

Sha’re rolled her eyes like a temperamental teenager, but stopped arguing. He walked her through adjusting the seat, adjusting the mirrors, exactly the way his dad had started with him. “Now, put the car into drive and slowly put your foot on the gas,” Jack said.

The big truck lurched hesitantly across the empty community college parking lot.

“You’ve gotta be smooth when you press the pedal,” Jack said.

“I am afraid of going too fast. I don’t wish to damage your truck,” Sha’re said.

“You’re planning to break your neck on a motorcycle and you’re worried about my truck? It’s a Ford F250,” Jack said acerbically. “The thing’s a tank. You’re not gonna hurt it. Now,” he waved his hands in front of him, “hit the gas.”

Sha’re pursed her lips and took a deep breath, pressing down the gas pedal. The truck flew across the parking lot with astonishing speed.

“Hit the brakes!” Jack said, clutching at the dashboard.

The truck went faster, heading straight toward a tree in the middle of the parking lot.

“The brakes! The big pedal on the left!” he shouted.

 

As evening descended, Sam heard the roar of Colonel O’Neill’s truck as it pulled up in front of her house. Sam looked out the window to see Sha’re trotting up her front steps, a backpack slung over her shoulder, the Colonel trudging wearily behind her.

“You ready to go?” Sam asked Sha’re as she flew in the house.

“I need only a minute to freshen up,” Sha’re said. “Jack may need your help, though.”

Sam leaned against her doorjamb, watching O’Neill climb the steps. He looked pale and shaken.

“Everything go OK, sir?” Sam asked.

The Colonel shook his head. “I think I know why they leave this stuff to the professionals,” he said.

Sam nodded. “My dad gave Mark one lesson, and then sent both of us to driving school. Should we make an appointment for Sha’re, sir?”

O’Neill shook his head. “Nah. It can’t possibly get any worse.” He looked over Sam’s shoulder into the house, and then said in a low voice, “Whenever she freaked me out, she _laughed_ at me.”

“She does that to everyone, sir.” Sam said. “I think it’s an Abydonian cultural thing. Are you coming out to dinner with us?”

“No, Carter. I’m going home to drink until my nerves are steady again.” O’Neill looked her in the eye. “ _Don’t_ let her behind the wheel.”

He seemed oddly melancholy as he walked back to his truck, Sam thought, but was quickly distracted as she and Sha’re left for Janet’s. It wasn’t until later in the evening, when she watched the other two women play pool, that she remembered. Charlie O’Neill would have been just hitting his teen years by now, if he’d lived – and the Colonel would probably have been giving him his first taste of driving, maybe in the very parking lot where he and Sha’re had been practicing. 

“Are you all right?” Sha’re asked. “You look sad.”

Sam shook her head and forced a smile. “I was just thinking how bad you’ll feel when I kick your butt next round.”

“You’d better do it fast,” Janet said, looking at her watch. “You girls may have the week off, but this doctor turns into a pumpkin at midnight.”

“Hot date in the morning?” Sha’re asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, with Teal’c,” Janet said. “Didn’t he tell you?”

Sha’re looked back and forth between Janet and Sam, obviously nonplussed. “Tell me what?” she said.

Sam took a pull off her beer, wondering why Teal’c hadn’t said anything to Sha’re. “Janet thinks she might have found a serum that could allow Teal’c to survive without the Goa’uld inside him. They’re trying it tomorrow morning.”

 

> ### Mission report, Colonel Jack O’Neill, October 3, 1997
> 
> Teal’c donated his larval Goa’uld to Rya’c to cure his son’s scarlet fever. In order to save Teal’c’s life, we needed to give him the larval Goa’uld we had intended to bring back to Earth for research purposes, as all other larval Goa’uld had been destroyed in the aforementioned unfortunate grenade accident that also seriously damaged the temple on Chulak. 
> 
>  
> 
> ### Medical report, Dr. Janet Fraiser, October 5, 1997
> 
> The Goa’uld larva inside Teal’c is extremely young, and according to the information we have will not mature for at least eight years. Because of its immaturity, it may not be able to heal Teal’c as effectively or quickly as the previous larva, but he is still likely to heal far faster than a normal human. 
> 
> It is my medical opinion that, as the immature larva will be unable to take a host for nearly a decade, that it does not pose a threat. If there are no other security issues, it is now safe to allow Teal’c to leave the SGC. 
> 
>  
> 
> ### Memo from General George Hammond, October 5, 1997
> 
> Teal’c has repeatedly demonstrated his trustworthiness and good faith.  As the new larva inside him will not be a security threat for many years, he will be allowed to leave the SGC on a limited and probationary basis as long as he is in the company of another Earth-born member of SGC staff.

 

Sha’re learned during the mission to Chulak that, though she’d thought of their frequent late-night conversations in the rec room as intimate, there was a lot Teal’c hadn’t told her. He’d told her about Goa’uld history and Jaffa culture, and they’d shared their amusement and puzzlement at strange Tau’ri customs and entertainments. But while she’d shared her own life story with him, telling him of the joys and sorrows of her life on Abydos, he had not shared his own — and she had never asked, too intent on talking about herself to even notice. Teal’c had never told her he had a mentor who was quietly training his students to doubt their Goa’uld masters. He hadn’t told her he had a wife and a son that he’d left behind on Chulak.

Though Teal’c seemed to be a master in avoiding frends intent on uncomfortable conversations, Sha’re was dogged in her pursuit. The morning after their return, she stalked the corridors, looking for him in every place with a television set; she knew Teal’c wouldn’t miss _WWF LiveWire._ As if she needed proof that he was evading her, she found him just turning on the television in the rec room furthest from their quarters, which made her even more livid. Before he could stand up, she stormed in and slammed the door behind her.

“I understand why you did not tell Sam or Jack,” Sha’re raged. “But me? After so many conversations about how we are alike, how we are different from the _Tau’ri_? You couldn’t trust me?”

Teal’c stared at the television screen. “I could not take the chance that you would tell them,” he said coolly.

“If you had asked me, I would have kept your secret,” Sha’re said.

Teal’c fixed her with an icy glare. “Until recently, Sha’re Jackson, you hated me. You made no secret of this. Just because you have begun to trust me does not mean I need to share all my secrets with you.”

Sha’re was caught flat-footed. “But I – we dine together almost every evening. We work out together. We talk in the rec room. I thought –”

“You thought that was all you needed to do to gain my trust.” The look he gave her was not angry; it was more complicated than that. It left her feeling young and unsure, and very small. “I have worked very hard to gain your trust, Sha’re Jackson. What have you done to gain mine?”

Sha’re had no ready answer. Teal’c nodded silently, turned off the television, and left the room.

 

Sha’re was lost in uncomfortable self-examination as she walked back to her office. She’d never had a tendency toward self-analysis, despite her apparent self-absorbtion, and she wondered what other unmentioned flaws she had in her personality.

She was so focused on her own thoughts that she almost walked straight into General Hammond as he stood in front of the elevator. “General, I’m sorry. My apologies,” she said, at pains to be as respectful as possible.

“Mrs. Jackson,” General Hammond said. “You’re just the person I wanted to see. I’d like you to join me in my office.”

Sha’re wondered if someone had overheard the argument she and Teal’c had just had and reported it to the General. As they rode the elevator down to level 27, she decided to make small talk that wasn’t talking about herself. How would she have done it if they were offworld? “How are your grandchildren?” she asked, hoping she’d remembered correctly.

Hammond smiled proudly. “Kayla just started her tap class, and tonight Tessa’s entered in her first figure-skating competition. I’m heading to the rink later with her parents to cheer her on,” he said.

Sha’re smiled back; Hammond’s warmth was infectious. “It’s good that you live so close to them,” she said. “You seem to care about them greatly.”

“They’re number one on my speed dial,” he replied as they exited the elevator. She trailed him into his office

Hammond handed Sha’re a small cloth bag from behind his desk. “I didn’t want to send an SF to break the bad news to you,” he said soberly. “While you were on Chulak, this came in from our friends the Bangere. I’m sorry to report that Alizah died yesterday morning. Her husband sent this back to us. He recorded everything she said. He seemed to think you might find them useful, Mrs. Jackson.”

 

Sha’re sat in her office, staring at the row of tapes on her desk. She wanted to listen to them, to bury herself in research until she could forget the conversation she’d had with Teal’c. But that wasn’t fair to Teal’c – and, as he would have pointed out to her, there was little she could do for Alizah now that she was dead.

With a deep breath, Sha’re turned to her computer, looking for a peace offering to bring to Teal’c.

 

Teal’c donned a black fedora in preparation for his first outing on Earth’s surface, covering the emblem on his forehead. The baseball cap, T-shirt and jeans that Colonel O’Neill had brought him sat on his dresser, ignored. Teal’c had carefully selected his clothing in anticipation of their dinner, and the casual nature of the jeans and T-shirt did not appeal to him. He knew from his study of Earth films that an Italian restaurant demanded a dark pinstriped suit, even if Colonel O’Neill disagreed. In its own way, the suit was both a suit of armor and a status symbol, clothing befitting the former First Prime of Apophis.

This dinner would also be the first time that Teal’c would see Sha’re Jackson since their altercation in the recreation room several days ago. He knew his words had been harsh, and wondered if she had learned from them or simply ignored them.

When Teal’c opened the door to his quarters to step into the hall, a videotape propped in the doorway fell to his feet. There was no note or explanation attached. He picked it up and slipped it out of its case.

“STAR WARS HOLIDAY SPECIAL,” the label read.

Teal’c smiled.

 

Between the missions that followed, the voice of a dead woman filled Sha’re’s lab. She wrote the words down phonetically and tried as best she could to translate. By the time Malvek had begun recording, however, all context was gone; Alizah spoke only in a foreign tongue that the Stargate wouldn’t translate and Sha’re couldn’t understand. She wasn’t even sure where one word ended and another one began, but she heard one phrase over and over again, in the midst of everything else. Eventually, it was the only thing Alizah said.

 _Egoo deserdi asorto_ , Alizah said, more and more frantically, until her voice became a weak whisper.

_Egoo deserdi asorto._

_Deserdi_ sounded a lot like “desire” to Sha’re. She was willing to take a shot in the dark at the first word, and assume it meant “I.” She didn’t know what the last one meant, but from the desperation in Alizah’s voice, she thought it meant “help.”

 _I need help_. But there was no one who could give it to her, no one who could even understand what she was begging for.

_Egoo deserdi asorto._

If she had pushed harder, Sha’re wondered, if she had gotten Alizah and Malvek to stay, could she had saved Alizah?

“Hey,” Jack’s voice came from the doorway.

“Hey yourself,” Sha’re said, rubbing her burning eyes.

Jack looked up at the speakers on the shelves above her desk. “Soundtrack’s getting a little old, don’t you think?” he asked casually.

“She was trying to tell us something,” Sha’re said, leaning her head back tiredly to stare at the ceiling. “If I just listen harder, I will be able to find out what it was.”

Jack walked behind her desk and pressed the stop button on the tape player. “No,” he said laconically. “You’ve been working on this for weeks. If you could have figured it out, you would have done it by now. Get some rest.”

Sha’re rubbed her hands over her face. “Daniel would have figured it out by now,” she muttered.

“Ah!” Jack said, pointing at her. “None of that.”

With bloodshot eyes, Sha’re looked at him through her fingers. “He would have, Jack. Do you know how many languages he spoke?”

“A lot,” Jack said.

“Twenty-three,” Sha’re said, letting her hands drop to her lap. “And I presume one of them would have been closer to whatever this is than Abydonian or English.” She looked over at the bookcase lined with Daniel’s books and started to rise to her feet. “I had been using Daniel’s German dictionary to see if I could find similarities, but he had one in French, as well. Perhaps if I look through that, I will find words…”

“Stop,” Jack said, grabbing a rolling chair and turning it backwards, straddling the seat back. “Stop right now. It’s not going to help anything.”

“But Jack, if I can find out what she was saying –“

“Then you’ll beat yourself up for not figuring out what she was saying while she was alive,” Jack said, fixing her with his dark stare. “Trust me. I used to be an expert at this game.” He reached behind her, ejecting the tape. “You couldn’t save her, and you can’t save her retroactively. And you don’t know that Daniel could have saved her, either.”

“Of course he could have,” Sha’re said. “He discovered how to speak our language, and he found the hieroglyphs that taught him how to return you to Earth.”

“When we got to Abydos, Daniel had no idea how to get us home,” Jack said sharply. “ _You_ were the one who drew the symbol for Earth in the sand. _You_ were the one who showed him the room where all the hieroglyphics were. _You’re_ the one who convinced everyone on Abydos to rebel against Ra. Without you, we probably would have all died there. So stop saying that if Daniel were here, he’d do better.”

Sha’re looked down, uncomfortable under Jack’s gaze. “All right,” she mumbled.

“Come on,” Jack said. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Sha’re asked, looking at the clock blearily. “Already?”

“Yeah, already,” Jack said, pulling her up out of her chair. “Let’s eat. Then you’re taking the rest of the day off and getting some rest. We’re heading for P3R-233 in the morning, and for once, you’re not going to be late.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sha're is late through the Stargate again. This time she steps into a world one dimension removed from her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Brightman inserted the IV line into the back of Sha’re’s hand, then injected something into the bag. “We’re going to scan for the presence of a Goa’uld in your body,” she said.
> 
> “A Goa’uld?” Sha’re tried to sit up, but the straps kept her tied to the table. Ice crawled up her arm from the IV line toward her heart. “Dr. Brightman, what happened while I was gone? Where’s Captain Carter? Where’s Teal’c?” As the table she was on slid into the central tube of the MRI machine, she fought to remain conscious, even as the world began to twist sideways. “Where’s Sam? Where’s Teal’c? What happened?” she screamed.

Sha’re flipped open the little screen on the camera, tilting it upward. She aimed it at the Stargate and pushed the zoom button, pleased to see how quickly the camera’s focus corrected itself. 

“New gadget?” Jack asked from over Sha’re’s shoulder. She didn’t turn to look at him, too intent on learning the ins and outs of the camera. “Is that what made you late today?”

“Mmmhmmm,” she replied.

“You and I need to have a talk about the concept of ‘on time,’” Jack said.

Sha’re ignored him and pressed the button with the red circle on it. In the corner of the little fold out screen, a red circle and the letters REC appeared. She turned the camera to Jack. “Is there anything you would like to say? Remember, your words are being preserved for posterity. Someday, historians will study these tapes.”

As the Stargate whirled behind him, Jack stared into the camera. “The first key to a successful mission is to start it on time,” he said.

“That is not very profound,” Sha’re said. She turned her camera to Teal’c, certain he had the gravitas to say something impressive on camera. Instead, he merely raised an eyebrow. 

“Teal’c, is there not some Jaffa saying that is appropriate to the situation?” Sha’re asked.

He lowered his eyebrow, staring full into the camera. “Our mission is to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life, and new civilizations. To — ”

“That’s _Star Trek_ ,” Sha’re said, cutting him off. She panned over to Sam. “You?”

Sam winced. “Sha’re, you know I hate being on camera.”

“Enough home movies,” Jack said. “Time to move out. P3R-233 isn’t getting any younger.”

Sha’re followed on his heels as they walked up the ramp, filming all the way.

“Are you going to keep that on the whole time?” Sam asked.

Sha’re nodded. “I am curious as to whether this camera can capture the visual effect of traveling through a wormhole. Aren’t you?”

“Sure. I’m just not sure the warranty covers wormhole travel,” Sam replied. 

Sha’re was still filming as they came out on P3R-233 and, distracted, walked directly into Jack, throwing him off balance. “Hey!” he snapped. “Put the camera down and look where you’re going.” 

Sha’re rolled her eyes and kept filming. The Stargate was housed indoors; the room was dark and chilly. Jack and Teal’c played their flashlights over the ceiling and walls; Sha’re tracked the glow with her camera lens. As she stepped off the Gate platform, she slowly panned around the room, trying to capture everything within view.

“Sha’re, you’re gonna want to take a look at this,” Sam called out from a distance.

Jack waved her on. “Go check it out.”

Sha’re trotted across the wide, open space to the room where Sam stood. Unlike in the main room, the lights were on here. “What do you – oh!” she said, gaping in amazement at the array of artifacts around the room. They filled the tables and shelves. A semi-rectangular piece of metal with a naquadah frame stood in the corner.

Sam smiled. “I thought you’d like it,” she said.

Sha’re grinned, striding to the shelves to look at the artifacts close-up. “Whoever this belonged to, they must have been doing research much like ours. See how different all the objects are? They must be from different cultures.” She took off her broad-brimmed boonie hat and bent forward, pausing her camera for the moment, looking at the small female statue that stood at the edge of the table.

“Do you know what it is?” Sam asked.

“Not yet,” said Sha’re. “But it will be very interesting to find out.” She opened her notebook to make detailed notes on the location and description of each object. 

Before she’d even written any detail on the first item, Jack and Teal’c came in. “We’re done here,” Jack said abruptly.

“What?” Sha’re yelped in frustration. “We can’t leave now. Look at all of this!” She opened her arms, gesturing at the artifacts that filled the room.

“For once,” Jack said in an exasperated tone, “instead of arguing with me, just follow orders. When I say _move_ , I mean _now_.” He and Teal’c left the room.

“Colonel O’Neill was pretty upset in the Gateroom this morning,” Sam said. “We’d better move.”

“In a minute,” Sha’re said, pulling out her camera. “I can’t leave without making some sort of record of this place. I need it to study when we return.”

Sam shook her head. “Just move fast,” she said, leaving the room.

Sha’re filmed the entire room, zooming in and out to get as much detail as possible. “That’ll have to do,” she muttered to herself. Her hand hovered over one object. Daniel had told her how important it was to record exactly where an artifact was found, as the placement of an object was often a clue as to its meaning. If Jack had been willing to give her even a half hour to look over the room, she would have been able to do just that. Instead, she would rely on the videotape. In an act that she knew would have made Daniel cringe, she began slipping artifacts into her backpack. Some looked vaguely Asian, others Greek. She fumbled one artifact, and dropped her hat on the floor as she caught the figurine just before it crashed to the ground.

She stopped when she found a strange, almost plastic-looking shape. “Which of these things does not belong?” she muttered to herself, picking it up. She saw motion out of the corner of her eye, and looked up to see a reflection of the lab in the mirror in the corner. Everything in the image looked the same – except she couldn’t see herself.

She shoved the plastic object into her backpack and walked closer to the mirror. Did it somehow eliminate living beings from the reflection? She peered at it. No, the room in the mirror was different – some of the objects she’d just picked up were still on the table. Was it a photograph? She reached up to touch it. She felt a painful spark and her body tingled all over.

Suddenly, the lights went dim. She looked up. “I get the hint, Jack!” she called out. Shouldering her backpack and setting the camera once again to record, she walked out to the Stargate. No one was there.

She rolled her eyes. _Time to teach Sha’re a lesson, I see_ , she thought. Aggravated, she punched in Earth’s coordinates, filming the gate as it spun. She glanced at her watch. She’d been practically instantaneous. She hadn’t stayed in that lab longer than three minutes. _Okay, five._ Sullenly, she walked up the alien staircase and through the Stargate, hoping for a hot shower, a pizza, and the new episode of _The Adventures of Brisco County Junior_ when she got back instead of an argument with Jack. She ambled out the other side, only to stop short when she saw a fully armed squad in the Gateroom, all their guns pointed at her.

She raised her hands above her head. “Hello, everyone,” she said warily. “Sorry I’m late.”

Before she could continue, Jack quickstepped into the room. She lowered her hands. “Jack, I know you said I’d be in trouble the next time I was late, but isn’t this all a bit much?”

Safeties throughout the room clicked off, and Jack eyed her with a wary glare. Sha’re put her hands back up. “All right, Jack, really,” she said uneasily. “You’ve had your fun. Now where’s the pizza?”

“How do you know my name?” Jack asked suspiciously.

Sha’re frowned at him. “You lead my team. What kind of a question is that?”

He took another step forward. “Team. What team? And how did you get SG-1’s remote activation device?” His voice was harsh.

Fed up, Sha’re matched his tone. “It was issued to me when I joined SG-1! Now will you stop this game and let me go get changed?”

She waited for him to laugh. Instead, he nodded to the two airmen closest to her, neither of whom she recognized. “Cuff her and take her to the infirmary,” he said.

“’Cuff her’?” Sha’re repeated incredulously. “For being late?” She was too shocked to struggle. One of the men grabbed her wrists, while the other slapped the cuffs on, then unclipped the shoulder straps of her pack, catching it deftly with one hand as it slid off her shoulders. “What is this?” she asked, baffled, as they frog-marched her out of the Gateroom. For the first time, she was beginning to worry. “Jack, this is no longer funny!”

 

By the time she got to the infirmary, she remembered what Jack and Sam and Teal’c had told her about military drills. This must be one of those drills. But she had no idea what role she was supposed to play in all this, or what she was supposed to do next. _Jack probably didn’t warn me to get back at me_ , she thought with mild irritation.

“Do I get a hint?” she asked the airman on her right. He wouldn’t look at her. _Naturally_ , she thought to herself. If it had been Bosworth dragging her off to the infirmary, she would have reminded him of the time she’d brought him coffee from the Brazen Bean to get him through a rough and especially hung over shift. Jack had probably planned it so that two airmen she didn’t know would bring her to the infirmary.

They led her into the MRI room. She looked at the machine, feeling queasy. “Oh, no. Come on, guys. Please – didn’t Jack or Sam tell you that I am claustrophobic?”

The two airmen looked at her grimly. One of them began dragging her over to the table. 

Sha’re sighed, giving in. “I really do not like this,” she muttered as she lay on her back on the table, one airman covering her with his gun. She liked it even less when the other airman started strapping her to the table. “For cryin’ out loud!” she said, channeling her best Jack O’Neill. “I recognize you were probably told to make this realistic, but this is going too far.”

She was shocked when the medical officer walked in the room. “Doctor Brightman?” she asked. She lifted her head; the airman put his hand against Sha’re’s forehead and pushed it back. Her head smacked against the table and she felt a strap wrap around her forehead. “I thought you were on Gizak with the rest of SG-10. Did they call you back just for this?”

Dr. Brightman rolled an IV over from the corner. Sha’re’s breathing sped up, fast and panicky, as Brightman opened a package and pulled out a needle. She forced herself to slow it down, just like Teal’c had taught her. “Dr. Brightman, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice shaking despite her best efforts.

Dr. Brightman inserted the IV line into the back of Sha’re’s hand, then injected something into the bag. “We’re going to scan for the presence of a Goa’uld in your body,” she said.

“A Goa’uld?” Sha’re tried to sit up, but the straps kept her tied to the table. Ice crawled up her arm from the IV line toward her heart. “Dr. Brightman, what happened while I was gone? Where’s Captain Carter? Where’s Teal’c?” As the table she was on slid into the central tube of the MRI machine, she fought to remain conscious, even as the world began to twist sideways. “Where’s Sam? Where’s Teal’c? What happened?” she screamed.

The drugs slid through her bloodstream. The thudding noise of the MRI faded. Everything went dark.

 

Sha’re fumbled toward consciousness in a dark room. She felt woozy. Her head hurt. Her mouth tasted like she’d been chewing the sludgy bits of her father’s beer left in the bottom of the jug, the stuff only her brother ever tasted, and that on a dare. _Did I let Janet convince me to do tequila shots again?_ she thought, trying to remember what got her into this state. Then she remembered.

Gingerly, she tried to lift her arms. She was no longer strapped down, and the surface she was laying on was a lot softer than the MRI table. Slowly, hoping to avoid any dizziness, she sat up. She looked around the room. Dim light filtered through the grill over the small window in the door. Slowly, she crept toward it.

“Hello?” she called out. She looked through the window. If there were any guards, she couldn’t see them. In the distance, she could hear boots moving rapidly, echoing down some distant corridor.

“It’s a lot more fun being on the other side of this door,” she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she called out louder. “Hello?” she said, banging with both fists on the door. Still, no one responded. She groped around the wall, looking for a light switch. When she reached the other side of the room, she heard the door behind her open.

She turned around to see a man’s silhouette, framed by the light in the corridor. The lights in the room snapped on, briefly blinding Sha’re. The door behind him shut as she blinked, working to recover her vision.

The man had short blond hair, a little spiky on top. His deep-set blue eyes looked kind. His jaw was heavy, and his lips were thin and looked like they weren’t used to staying in a serious expression for too long. Sha’re didn’t think she’d met him before, and yet she almost felt as if she recognized him. “Do I know you?” she asked.

He shrugged, putting his hands in his fatigue pockets. “You tell me. They said you called out my name in the infirmary.” He blushed a little, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out the way I meant.” His baritone voice was a little nasal, but pleasant, and something about how he spoke was maddeningly familiar. He seemed just as baffled by her as she was by him. 

Sha’re shook her head. “I am sorry. I feel that I should know you, but I am not sure who you are.” 

Staring at her, he leaned back against the wall. “I’m Captain Sam Carter,” he said.

Sha’re scowled at him for a moment, then turned and walked toward the door. “That’s it. We’re done.” She banged on the door with both fists. “Jack, enough is enough! Let me out.”

“Hey, _you’re_ the one who was looking for _me_ ,” the man said, grabbing her arm.

“I wasn’t looking for _you,_ ” Sha’re said, shaking off his arm. “I was looking for _Sam_ Carter. _Samantha_ Carter. Captain and Doctor Samantha Carter. Physics expert. Daughter of Jacob and Ellen Carter, sister of Mark.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, so far you have everything right except for the gender and name.”

Sha’re crossed her arms just as he had, squaring off. “It is easy for you to agree with what I say. _You_ tell _me_ something about Sam.”

His jaw pushed forward a little bit, just like Sam’s did when she got combative. “I graduated at the top of my class at the Air Force Academy.”

Sha’re shook her head. “That is too easy. It would be in your file.” She thought, and then lit on the perfect question. “What kind of Jell-o do you like, and why?” Sha’re asked.

“I love blue Jell-o because my mother always made it for me when I was a kid,” he fired back. “What kind of Jell-o do I hate, and why?”

“You hate red Jell-o because you were eating it when the police came to the door to tell you your mother died,” Sha’re responded. “Your mother had made it because your father hated blue Jell-o.”

He eyed her warily. “No one here knows that,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about that. How do you know?”

Sha’re sat down on the bed. She didn’t think Sam would have told some stranger that, not even for a military exercise. “I know it because I know _you_.,” she said, staring at her unfamiliar friend. “You and Janet have been my closest friends since I arrived here. I know you ride a motorcycle. I know you cannot cook a single thing from scratch. I know who all your ex-boyfriends are.”

He looked taken aback. “What?” he said.

Sha’re shook her head. “Although here, they’d probably all be ex-girlfriends.” She rubbed her forehead. “This is just like that episode of _Brisco County Junior_ ,” she said. “The one where he touches the crystal, and goes to the other world where Socrates is a dangerous mercenary and Lord Bowler is a writer, and Dixie never died.”

Sam stared at her intently. Though the set of his eyes were different, the color and intensity of his gaze were the same as her Sam Carter’s. She could tell something she said had triggered an idea in his brain. “What happened before you came here?”

“I dialed Earth, I pressed my GDO to signal my presence, and I walked through the wormhole,” Sha’re said.

“No,” Sam said, gesturing. His hands were larger and hairier, but had the same grace as Sha’re’s Sam. “Before that. Tell me what happened from the beginning.”

Sha’re took a deep breath, closing her eyes to think. “We were on a mission to P3R-233.”

Sam held up his hand to stop her. “Wait, P3R-233. Are you sure?”

“If you do not believe me, look in my notebook. Since it is not here, I assume one of you has it,” she said.

Sam nodded. “Keep going,” he said.

“Teal’c and Jack began exploring the main chamber,” Sha’re said.

Sam held up his hand again. “By ‘Jack,’ I assume you mean Colonel O’Neill.” When Sha’re nodded, he asked, “Who’s Teal’c?”

“Teal’c is a Jaffa,” Sha’re said. “Once he was First Prime to Apophis, but he is now a member of our team.”

“Apophis – that’s one of the Goa’uld, right?” Sam asked suspiciously. “Why did you let one of their soldiers on your team? Are you working with them?”

“No!” Sha’re exclaimed. “The Jaffa are enslaved by the Goa’uld. Teal’c left them because he felt we could help him free his people. He is a loyal member of our team, and a good friend.”

Sam nodded, but still seemed skeptical. “What happened next?”

Sha’re closed her eyes, trying to visualize it. “Sam and I – _my_ Sam – found a room filled with artifacts from what seemed to be many different worlds. Most were very primitive, like something my own people would have crafted. Jack called to us and told us we had to leave immediately. I wanted to investigate the objects further, so after videotaping them to establish where they were placed, I put several in my backpack.” She paused for a moment and opened her eyes to stare at Sam. “And that was when I found a strange artifact. I do not know if it was old, but it certainly was not primitive like the other objects on the table. I took it, and then I thought I saw something in the mirror out of the corner of my eye.”

“A mirror?” Sam asked, tilting his head for all the world like her Sam. “You didn’t mention a mirror before.”

Sha’re’s eyebrows furrowed. “That is what I thought it was. I didn’t really pay attention to it when I went in the room. The frame was made of naquadah. I’m not sure what the reflective surface was made of.”

“Naquadah. Are you sure?” Sam asked.

“For most of my life, my people mined it. I’m very sure,” Sha’re said. “When I looked in it, I could see a reflection of the room, but I could not see myself. I thought it was odd. I touched the mirror and I felt a brief buzzing sensation throughout my body. Nothing else happened. I went to find my team, but they had left, so I dialed Earth and walked through the gate.” She pointed upwards, at the camera over the door. “And I believe the rest is on your security tapes.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed, then widened. “I think I know what happened,” he said. “You need to meet with the General. Now.” He banged on the door. “Open up!” he called to the guard.

 

Just a few minutes later, Sha’re and Sam sat in the conference room that overlooked the Gateroom, the same one that she’d been in just yesterday. But this room was different. The long table was made of light wood, and the carpet was beige, not gray. On the wall, the emblem for the base said SGU in blue letters, not SGC in red letters, and featured a stylized blue bird soaring through a Stargate. Sha’re shook her head as she stared at it. “What is it with you Earth people and the bird symbolism?” she said under her breath.

Two men walked into the room from General Hammond’s office. Jack O’Neill’s bearing was more erect, more military than she was used to, but he still wore the same eagles on his collar. She didn’t recognize the man on the right, who wore generals’ stars on the collar of his dress uniform, had sandy brown hair that stood up in tall bristles and eyebrows so large they seemed to have a life of their own. “Where’s General Hammond?” she asked.

“He’s on board Air Force One on his way here with the President, and I’m sure he was very surprised to hear about the Stargate,” the unfamiliar man said in a husky voice. Immediately, he struck her as more gruff and abrasive than Hammond. “I’m Brigadier General Landry. Captain Carter, explain to me why this young woman is so important, and make it quick. We’ve got people to evacuate.”

“Two reasons,” Carter said, raising his finger in the air. “First, she came here from the same quadrant as that message we received. Second –“ As he held up a second finger, he paused, looking back and forth between Jack and Landry. “Sirs, I know you’re going to find this hard to believe, but she’s from an alternate universe. And in her universe, they know a lot more about the Goa’uld than we do.”

Everyone in the room stared at her.

“Alternate universe?” Jack said. “Carter, have you gone _nuts_?”

Sha’re shook her head. “I’m with Jack,” she said. “What do you mean, _alternate universe_?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Scientists have theorized for years that there are multiple dimensions. At key decision points, an alternate universe is formed in which events go a different way.”

Landry leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “‘There can be at this date no conceivable doubt that Pickett's charge would have been defeated if Stuart with his encircling cavalry had not arrived in the rear of the Union position at the supreme moment,’” he said.

“Exactly,” Carter said, nodding.

“Excuse me, sir?” Jack said to Landry.

“It’s from Winston Churchill’s _If Lee Had Not Won the Battle at Gettysburg_ ,” Landry said. “If we get out of this alive, I’ll lend you my copy. Churchill wrote it from the perspective of a historian postulating what the world would be like if Lee had been defeated at Gettysburg. The historian is writing in a world where Lee had won, and the South was victorious in the Civil War.” His sharp blue eyes fixed on Sha’re. “What Carter is saying is that our Miss…” He paused.

“Jackson,” Sha’re supplied. “ _Mrs_. Jackson.”

“…comes from a real-life example of an alternate universe,” he finished.

Sam nodded. “And in their world, they know where the Goa’uld’s warriors come from.”

“You haven’t been to Chulak?” Sha’re asked, startled.

“You have?” Jack asked coolly. 

Sha’re nodded. “We were there only a few weeks ago. We tried to keep Teal’c’s son from having a symbiote implanted, but it was too late,” she said.

General Landry tore a piece of paper off the yellow notepad in front of him, took a pen and slid them across the table to Sha’re. “What’s the Gate address?” he asked; it came out as more of a command than a question.

Sha’re quickly wrote out the Gate address for Chulak. “There’s a growing number of Jaffa who wish to rebel against the Goa’uld,” she said, holding the paper out across the table. “They may be able to help you.”

Landry nodded. “Colonel, take that down to the Gate room. See if it’s authentic,” he said.

Jack nodded. He took the paper out of Sha’re’s hand and raced down the stairs.

“I have no reason to lie to you, General,” Sha’re said.

“Mrs. Jackson, it’s my job to be skeptical,” Landry said, a touch of humor in his voice and his blue eyes. “Now, what’s your full name and what do you do on your SG-1?” he asked.

“My name is Sha’re Jackson,” she said. “I am the translator and cultural expert for SG-1.” 

Landry’s enormous eyebrows shot up, almost merging with his hair. “Translator?” he said. He turned to Carter. “Set her up with the tapes from the transmission. See if she can figure it out,” he said, then looked at Sha’re. “I know this isn’t your world, but right now I need every hand I can get.”

Sha’re nodded. “Yes, sir.” She stood up, ready to follow Carter. “Sir,” she said to Landry, who was already heading down the stairs to the Gateroom, “you said Air Force One was on its way here, and something about evacuation. What has happened?”

He looked at her soberly through the posts of the stairwell’s railing. “Young lady, Earth is under attack from the Goa’uld,” he said.

 

While the language coming through the headphones had been a complete mystery to these people, Sha’re immediately grasped the words. _Beware the destroyers. They come from_ she wrote in clear block letters on the yellow note pad.

“Are you sure that’s what they’re saying?” Sam asked.

Sha’re nodded. “It’s almost exactly the same language we speak on Abydos,” she said. “It just has a slightly different accent.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “You come from Abydos?” he asked, frowning.

Sha’re nodded. “My husband Daniel translated the original cartouche found on Earth,” she said. “He and Jack took a team through the Stargate, and defeated Ra.” As she pulled on the headphones, she noticed Sam lifting his chin and swallowing, the same way her Sam did when there was something that made her upset. “That is not the way it happened here, I imagine,” she said, pausing with the headphones held away from her ears. “Was Daniel part of the team that went to Abydos?”

Sam shook his head. “I haven’t met him,” he said.

Sha’re listened to the transmission again, then pulled the headphones off, shaking her head. “I understand the words, but then there are a series of beeps. I am not sure what they mean,” she said.

“We don’t know either,” Sam said. “They’re divided into six groups – three, thirty-two, sixteen, eight, ten and twelve.”

Sha’re wrote the numbers down as he spoke, then stared at them. “Six numbers – that’s almost an entire Stargate address.”

“If each number correlates to a symbol,” Sam said, “then they’re probably starting from the one unique symbol on their gate, which would be their point of origin.” He ran one hand through his hair. “But we have no way of knowing if the symbols on their Gate are in the same order as ours.”

Sha’re smiled. “That’s where you are wrong,” she said. “I videotaped the Stargate.”

 

Lieutenant Lorne handed Sha’re’s bag over to Sam, who emptied it out on the table and picked up the video camera. Eyeing the rest, he said, “You found all this on the planet?” 

“Most of it,” Sha’re said, picking up her notebook. “The notebook and the grenade came from home.” She stood up and looked through the window into the Gateroom. The event horizon rippled inside the Stargate. On the ramp, people in uniforms were working on a device inside a metal framework.

Sha’re had only seen such a device once before, but the vision was burned into her memory. “A nuclear bomb?” she whispered in shock. 

Before Sam could stop her, she raced down the staircase, recklessly leaping down several steps at a time, notebook clutched to her chest. “Jack, what are you doing?” she cried out as she entered the control room.

Jack and Landry turned from where they looked out the window into the Gateroom. “The Jaffa have been blowing us up left and right. It’s time we returned the compliment,” Jack said, his eyes angry.

“Time to – what?” Sha’re looked into the Gateroom in horror, then back at Jack. “Jack, you have to stop this. There are _children_ on Chulak!”

She had never realized just how hard Jack’s dark eyes could look. “There are soldiers on Chulak, too,” he said.

“Jack,” she said, then stopped, turning to the General. “General Landry, you don’t understand. The Jaffa are enslaved by the Goa’uld. They don’t have a choice. You’re killing their families, women and children. Innocents!”

“My daughter was an innocent!” Landry barked at her, boiling over with rage. “My daughter Carolyn, as well as all of the one point three _billion_ people that have died so far in the Goa’uld assault! Look at that map on the wall,” he said, pointing to a world map covered with red markers. “Over one sixth of the people on this _planet_ are dead. Can you even comprehend that?” He turned back to the window. “Send it through,” he said, folding his arms.

Sha’re watched, helpless, as the nuclear bomb went through the gate. After a moment, the event horizon winked out. “There are children on Chulak,” she whispered, arms wrapped around herself.

“Sir,” Harriman said from his post at the Stargate’s computer controls, “we’re receiving a transmission from Air Force One.”

“Put it on speakers,” Landry said.

“This is Air Force One.” Sha’re’s heart leapt as she heard General Hammond’s tense voice echo out from the speakers. She wondered fleetingly if Kayla and Tessa were on board with him. “We are under attack. Repeat, we are under-“ A high-pitched noise shrilled through the room, followed by static.

Harriman looked at his radar readout. “Sir, they’ve been destroyed!”

Sha’re gasped, turning away as her hand flew over her mouth. Her eyes began to tear. She reminded herself that it was not _her_ Hammond who was dead, that just one universe removed from here, _her_ Hammond was probably taking Kayla and Tessa to see _Anastasia_. It didn’t matter. George Hammond was a good man, and the idea of his loss in any universe struck her to the heart.

She glanced at a computer and thought of looking up Daniel and Janet and everyone else she knew in her universe that wasn’t at this SGU. Then she looked at the map on the wall, stepping closer to it. Washington. Paris. London. Cairo. All these cities and more were covered by red stickers, apparently the sign of a Goa’uld attack, with six and seven digit numbers written on them. Were they casualty counts? With a shiver, Sha’re decided she would rather remain ignorant of the fate of her loved ones in this universe.

“All right, everyone, let’s work on evacuating whoever’s left from the Genesis list. Get Peterson to send them over ASAP. Captain Carter, clear the unauthorized personnel from this room,” Landry ordered.

Carter nodded grimly. “Come on, Mrs. Jackson,” he said, touching her on the shoulder. “Let’s take a look at that videotape of yours.”

 

Sam had just pressed play on Sha’re’s video camera when Sha’re heard the SGC’s alarm go off. “Unauthorized gate activation!” Walter’s voice came up from below.

Sha’re and Sam looked through the window to see the iris close just as the Stargate’s event horizon whoosh into existence. “Why dial in now?” Landry called out, climbing up the stairs.

“Someone probably learned of your attack on Chulak,” Sha’re said. “If they can keep the Stargate open, they can keep you from attacking. Or fleeing.”

“We were in the middle of dialing the Beta site when it happened,” Jack said.

“The longest possible lifespan of a wormhole that we’ve found is thirty-eight minutes,” Sam said. “If they’re restricted to the same limitations that we are, then we’ll have another shot at Gating to the beta site in just over a half-hour.”

“Can they dial in while we’re trying to dial out?” Landry asked.

Sam nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Then we need to dial out faster. Do what you can to speed up the dialing sequence,” Landry said.

“Right away, sir,” Sam said.

As he turned toward the stairs, Landry raised a hand. “Hold on a minute, Carter,” he said, pointing at the television screen showing the footage from Sha’re’s videotape. “What is this?”

“That’s my universe, General Landry.” Sha’re said. On screen, Jack adjusted the brim of his hat. “See? That’s Colonel O’Neill.” The camera panned shakily to a blond woman in uniform. “And that’s my Captain Carter.”

Landry and Jack both stared at Sam. Though his face was blank, he was blushing furiously. “Well, that’s…different,” Jack said.

Carter looked at the screen. “You realize what we’re seeing here, sirs?” he said. “This is the first actual evidence we’ve ever had of an alternate universe!”

“I’m sure this is all _fascinating_ ,” Jack said, “but in this universe, we’re being attacked by the Goa’uld.”

Sam nodded. “Mrs. Jackson decoded the transmission,” he said. “It seems to give the point of origin for the attacking Goa’uld. We’re using this tape to translate the numbers they gave us into actual coordinates.”

Before he could speak further, the room began to shudder. “What the hell is that?” Jack said.

“General!” Walter shouted from below. “You need to get down here!”

Landry, Sam, Jack and Sha’re raced down the steps to the control room. On the video screen, they could see a ha’tak vessel descending onto the mountain.

“If they shoot us, we won’t even feel it,” Sam said. “The blast that hit Washington was the equivalent of a two hundred megaton warhead.”

Sha’re shook her head. “They’re not going to attack. Not like that.” As she watched, the ha’tak vessel continued to slowly descend. “They’re landing. They want the Stargate.”

“And they’ll get it over my dead body,” Landry said. “Walter, radio up to the surface. Tell everyone to fall back into the Mountain, and have them blow the entrance while they’re at it. There’s no way the folks from the Genesis list are going to ge here now. If these Jaffa want to take this base, they’re going to have to fight for every square inch of it.” He pointed at Jack. “You, work with Miss Jackson to figure out where this attack came from. Carter, speed up that dialing sequence. We’ve got one shot at getting back at these guys. I want to make it count.”

 

As Landry issued orders, sending soldiers out to destroy parts of the mountain and make it harder to get to the Gate room, Sha’re and Jack freeze-framed the video of the Stargate on P3R-233, squinting at the symbols. Sha’re was writing down the final emblem in her notebook when Sam came up the stairs.

“Fifteen minutes,” she heard Walter call from downstairs, counting down until the next time they could dial out.

“I cut down the time it takes by about half,” Sam said. “I don’t think I can get it any quicker in the time I have left. I’m not even sure we’re going to get another chance to dial out before they get down here.” He looked at the screen, where the video was playing. “Who is that?” he said, pointing at the dark, bald figure on the screen.

“That’s Teal’c,” Sha’re said, her lips tightening. Had he been blown up on Chulak? She’d never know. The camera moved on to Jack, adjusting his baseball cap.

“Back that up and freeze frame,” Sam said. “General Landry!” he called out. “There’s something here you need to see.”

Landry came up the stairs, looking over Sha’re’s shoulder. “That sure looks like the guy,” he said. 

“Looks like who?” Sha’re asked.

Landry brought them all downstairs. Sha’re grabbed her notebook as they left the room. 

The control room was almost empty. Walter still manned the controls, but all other personnel had gone to fight the Jaffa. The General played a surveillance videotape from the entrance to the mountain. On the tape, one of Apophis’ guards pressed a button on the side of his metallic helmet. It folded back into itself, revealing Teal’c’s face beneath a short, bristly Mohawk. 

“Oh, no,” Sha’re whispered.

“Fourteen minutes,” Walter called. The room shook.

“It’s the same guy in the tape,” Jack said.

Sha’re nodded. She looked at Sam, Jack and Landry. “I think I know how you can buy some time,” she said. “Show this tape to Teal’c. He has always wanted to fight against the Goa’uld. You can show him that, in another world, he is already doing so.”

“That sounds pretty flimsy,” Jack said.

Sha’re nodded. “It’s the biggest Hail Mary in the history of Hail Marys,” she said. Jack blinked at her. “I got that from _you_ ,” she said. “You do not need to convince him to change sides. You only need to distract him for –“

“Thirteen minutes!” Walter called.

“If you can do it, it gives us enough time to launch an attack against those coordinates there,” Landry said, pointing at Sha’re’s notebook.

“What good will that do?” Sha’re said. “Sir, I understand your desire to fight back, but you won’t even achieve a Pyrrhic victory. Please, if we have one chance to dial out, let me dial back to P3R-233. On my world, none of this has happened yet. Give me the chance to warn them.”

Landry looked at Sha’re, then at Carter. “She’s right about one thing,” he said. “We need to get her out. To the Beta site. The intelligence that she has is too valuable to lose.”

“The Beta site?” Sha’re said, looking from Carter back to Landry, panic thrilling through her. “Sir? What do you mean?”

“You have information on what Goa’uld are out there, information that could help the humans there survive. Carter, get her to the Beta site. Knock her out, if necessary. We’ll fight to keep the Jaffa from getting down here and send any staff we can to go through with you. Set the self-destruct to go off as soon as you all step through the Gate. If they want this place, they can damn well be buried in it.” He turned to Sergeant Harriman. “Walter, you’re with me and O’Neill,” he said. “Let’s see what we can do to buy some time.”

 

The waiting, Sha’re decided, was the worst part. She had used the first ten minutes to scribble into her notebook everything she had experienced since arriving on P3R-233. Between notes she anxiously peered up the stairs and out the window into the Gate room, hoping more people would appear. Sam sat at the computer, trying to squeeze a few extra seconds out of the dialing sequence. 

“So, your husband was part of the first team that went to Abydos. Did Earth and Abydos form an alliance to fight the Goa’uld? Is that why you’re on the team?” Sam asked.

Surprised, Sha’re looked over at Sam, who smiled ruefully. “There’s nothing else I can do,” he said. “We can either sit here in silence or you can tell me what happened.”

Sha’re nodded. “Daniel decided to remain on Abydos with me, rather than returning to Earth with Jack. Roughly a year and a half after Jack left, the Goa’uld Amaunet came to our planet looking for a host for her mate Apophis and his son Klorel. She took Daniel to become Apophis’ host, and my brother Skaara as host for Klorel.” She stared at the sealed Stargate in the control room. “Jack contacted me shortly thereafter. I joined the Stargate program to search for my husband and my brother.”

An explosion shook the room. Sam looked up. “Well, it looks like that particular ploy has run its course.” He turned back to the computer screen, hands racing across the keyboard. “I don’t think there’s any staff coming. And that explosion probably means that I’m now the commanding officer on base.” He hit one final key. “I’ve set the self-destruct. If we make the connection, you’ll have five seconds to get through the gate before the Mountain blows sky-high.”

“What do you mean?” Sha’re said, standing up.

“I mean I’ve set the system to dial out to P3R-233,” Sam said. “If everything goes right, you’ll go through in one hundred and thirty six seconds.”

Both of them looked up as they heard Jaffa boots clatter into the conference room.

“Time to go,” Sam said, tucking a grenade into his back pocket. “I’m going to try to buy you another two minutes. Head downstairs – you have to run through as soon as the Gate opens.” He reached out to shake her hand, then smiled quickly, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. “Good luck, Sha’re. I hope you find your husband.”

“Come with me!” Sha’re said, reaching out to him. But he was already on his way up the stairs.

Sha’re ran down the stairs to the gate room. Behind the iris, she could hear the sound of the wormhole closing. The Stargate clanked as it moved into action. 

“Oh, come on, please,” Sha’re said, clutching her notebook tightly to her chest.

One symbol was locked in. Two. Three.

Sha’re heard an explosion and looked up. Blood spattered the window of the conference room. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, thinking of Sam Carter. She could still feel his lips on her cheek.

Five symbols locked in. Six. The iris spun open. She could hear boots coming down the stairs. 

Seven symbols.

Before the event horizon finished collapsing in on itself, she was racing across the room, her right foot hitting the bottom stair as the center of the event horizon snapped into place.

“Kree!” she heard Teal’c’s voice shout from the doorway. She leapt up the steps, throwing herself bodily through the wormhole as she heard the sound of a staff weapon opening behind her.

She flew through the other side, the wormhole closing behind her so quickly she was sure the self-destruct had cut all power to Earth’s Stargate. She’d miscalculated her angle, or maybe the wormhole had adjusted her trajectory for her. Either way, the neat shoulder roll she had planned for a landing didn’t happen. Her shoulder caught the edge of the top step, and she tumbled down in a flurry of tense limbs and hard bruises, still clutching her beaten, leather-bound journal to her chest. Her head caught the corner of the bottom step, and everything in her field of vision turned to stars.

She blinked her eyes, trying to clear her sight, and looked up to see Apophis standing, staring openmouthed, above her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In all the alternate universes in existence, Sha're never expected to meet the one person who would understand her better than anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blinking back tears, she took a deep breath. “So, you see, I am Sha’re Jackson, but I am not your Sha’re Jackson.” She turned, ready to grab her notebook and race down the stairs; her head spun, and she quickly sat back down. She had no _time_ for this, she thought, lifting her hands to her head as if it would still the dizziness. There was no time.

Sha’re dragged herself to a sitting position and skittered back up the stairs, holding her notebook in front of her as if she could do damage with it. Apophis moved backwards just as quickly, drawing a gun from a holster at his side and aiming it at her.

She looked at his Earth gun, looked at his Earth uniform, and blinked. Perhaps she’d hit her head even harder than she thought.

“Put your hands up,” Daniel said.

Head still ringing, Sha’re complied with his order. Daniel looked pale and determined; she knew just how he felt. “The only weapon I have is a book,” she said urgently, waving the volume in her left hand. “You people say the pen is mightier than the sword, but I do not have one of those, either. The best I can offer is the death of a thousand paper cuts.”

“Sha’re?” Daniel asked, his voice high and strained.

She looked at her notebook, distracted. Her head hurt. “If I were Jack, I could probably find a way to hurt you with this. I’m sure he knows twelve ways to kill someone with a sheet of paper.”

“Sha’re,” Daniel said, his voice cracking. He stepped forward and squatted in front of her, resting the nose of the gun on the floor.

She nodded. It was a bad idea. The room bobbed and spun. “You did put the safety on, didn’t you?” she asked, closing her eyes until things stopped moving.

“What – oh.” She heard the click of the safety, heard his gun slide into his holster. Then his hand slid up her throat, cupping her jaw. It was so quiet, she could hear him lick his lips. “Sha’re, is it really you?”

She opened her eyes. Through his glasses, Daniel’s big blue eyes looked down at her. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s really me.”

Daniel leaned down and kissed her. His kiss was gentle at first, that same tentative beginning she had always loved so much. She let her notebook fall to the stairs and slid her hands up, wrapping her arms around his neck. As she ran her fingers through his hair, their kiss ignited like paper caught in flame. He leaned forward, she leaned back and for a moment she thought they were back on Abydos, about to make love on the stone steps of the Stargate. She wanted to slide her hands under his shirt, slip it off and feel his skin against hers again.

Then she remembered what had just happened on the Earth she’d come from, and adrenalin charged through her. She didn’t have time for this. Earth didn’t have time for this. She gently pushed Daniel away. His eyes fluttered open, and narrowed a little in confusion as he looked down at her.

She patted his chest, slowly rising to her feet and leaving her notebook on the steps for the moment. Her body was urging her to move fast, fast, but her head and stomach said otherwise. “I am Sha’re. But – and you do not know how sorry I am to say this – I am not _your_ Sha’re.”

“What’s going on?” Daniel asked anxiously, searching her face.

“Do you have a video camera?” Sha’re demanded. “You need to tape this. We don’t have much time.”

“Why?” Daniel asked. “What’s happening?”

“Get the camera!” Sha’re said, gesturing frantically. “I will explain, but you must tape it. There is very little time.”

Daniel’s piercing blue gaze told her that he wanted to ask more questions, but he pulled out his camera, leaving his backpack on the steps, and aimed it at her.

She tugged her hands through her hair once, sure she looked wild and frenzied. Though the anxiety buzzing through her body told her to shout, to run, she forced herself to take a deep breath. “My name is Sha’re Jackson,” she said. “I have just come from a world where Stargate Command was destroyed by Apophis.”

Behind the camera, Daniel’s eyes widened in shock. As he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off. “Not my SGC, and not yours, Daniel. Don’t stop taping.”

She told the story as quickly as she could – touching the mirror, her trip through the Stargate. When he began to protest, disbelieving, she handed him her notebook, the one with the history of all her trips through the Stargate. A quick survey of her notes, and he could no longer argue with reality. He quickly copied down the gate address of the invader in his notebook, a twin to her own.

She could hear her pulse beating and knew that with every moment Apophis was drawing closer, but she had to tell Daniel of the bravery of Landry and Harriman and Jack and Sam, even if it was only a sentence or two. There was no one left in the Mountain to remember them. There might not be anyone left in her Mountain to tell. Someone needed to know what they had done. Her voice broke, and she gestured to Daniel to turn the camera off.

Blinking back tears, she took a deep breath. “So, you see, I am Sha’re Jackson, but I am not _your_ Sha’re Jackson.” She turned, ready to grab her notebook and race down the stairs; her head spun, and she quickly sat back down. She had no time for this, she thought, lifting her hands to her head as if it would still the dizziness. There was no _time._

She felt Daniel’s gentle fingers slide her hand away to inspect her temple. “You’re bleeding,” he said, sounding worried.

Nodding, it turned out, also wasn’t a good idea. She gripped his hand and willed the world to steady again. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a moment,” she said.

She felt his thumb gently wipe the blood from her face, his other hand gripped tight around hers as if he would never let her go. “I’ve never heard anyone call you Sha’re Jackson before,” he said, the hint of a smile in his voice. “I could get used to that.”

“How did your Sha’re get you back from Apophis?” she asked. She stared into his blue eyes, making them the fixed point that the world swirled around. 

Daniel’s eyebrows drew together. “Back from Apophis? Didn’t your Teal’c get your Daniel away from Chulak?”

Sha’re looked at him in confusion. “Did Amaunet select someone else to be Apophis’ host?” 

Daniel let go of her hand. The blood drained from his face. “I’m Apophis’ host? In your world, I’m his host?” he said angrily, standing up and backing away.

“Yes!” Sha’re said, getting to her feet. For once, the world stayed steady. “That is why I joined SG-1! Who did he take as host in your world?” Her heart leapt in fear. “Was it Father? Skaara?”

Daniel looked at her, his face blank and his eyes agonized. Then he turned away, walking off the Stargate platform. “Daniel,” she said, striding down the steps carefully and catching his arm to stop him. “Daniel, I am sorry. I did not mean to catch you unawares. I thought I could learn information that would help me rescue my Daniel.” He still didn’t look at her. She stroked his back. She wanted to console him, but there was no time. “Daniel, I am sorry. But it is my world, not yours. I will find a way to get you back. But right now we have to go.”

Daniel looked up at her, eyes wet, face naked with pain. “Apophis didn’t need a host in my world. Amaunet did.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he stopped.

Sha’re stared at him. First, his words didn’t make any sense, and then they did and her stomach twisted just like it had when she’d gone through the dimensional mirror. One hand clamped over her mouth as she pushed Daniel away.

“Sha’re?” Daniel said. She heard him from a distance, the image his words had raised filling her head. Amaunet’s host. She was Amaunet’s host. Some other being moving her arms, her legs, speaking for her, using her as a puppet, letting Apophis touch her in a way she would never again let anyone but Daniel do…

She felt Daniel’s arms around her, and then heard the keening coming from her own throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice choked. “I’ve been looking for you.” He laughed, a short, mirthless chuckle. “For a minute up there in front of the Stargate I thought I’d found you again.” He pulled her close until her head rested against his shoulder, and kissed the top of her head, the way he’d always done when she needed him. 

They clung to each other. Daniel smelled just like she remembered; he smelled like home. That just made it worse. She had to clamp down and get control, and she couldn’t. She couldn’t lock up the walls around her when Daniel was there. Sha’re wished she could just go back to Abydos with him and be done. She was tired of running, tired of searching, tired of failing.

“I always thought…” Sha’re said, her voice thick and throaty as she tried to clamp down on her emotions. “Since I started searching for you, I’ve told myself that if our positions were reversed, you would have gotten me back right away.”

“Oh, God,” Daniel said, his voice full of guilt. He let go of her. “Sha’re, I’m sorry. I’ve tried…”

“No! No!” Sha’re said, looking into his wide, hurt eyes. She cupped his face with her hands. “I did not mean that you should have. Don’t ever think that. It is only…I’ve been cursing myself for not being as smart as you, as dedicated as you, as –” Her voice broke and she turned away, her hand covering her mouth again.

His mouth and eyes both opened wide in shock. “Sha’re.” He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her on the top of the head. “You’re braver than I could have imagined.”

“I’m not,” she said, sniffling. “I am just selfish. I just want you back, so everything will be fixed and I will not have to be frightened anymore.” She started crying again. “Daniel, I am not any good at this! I am so scared all the time. I just want you back. I want to be able to ask your advice, to tell you things. To show you…” She broke off, trying to smother her sobs.

“Don’t you think I feel the same way?” he asked desperately. He put one hand on her chin, tilting her head up. His eyes were almost as wet as hers. “Sha’re, there are days where I feel like I’m going to lose my mind without you. I feel like I’m not getting any closer to finding you, and…” He ran one hand through his hair, that little gesture that always told her he was stretched taut.

“…like the missions are becoming a distraction and you’re going to forget why you came?” Sha’re continued.

“Yes!” Daniel said. His eyebrows drew together. “There are days when I hate myself for not finding you yet.”

She rested her head back on his shoulder. “I am not doing any better,” she said. They clung to each other for a moment more. Sha’re didn’t want to move; even though Apophis’ attack loomed, she wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“I can’t believe you joined the SGC,” he said in wonderment.

“So did you,” she pointed out.

“But I’d been through the Stargate before,” he replied, speaking to her in that warm, almost fatherly way that should have annoyed her but just made her feel taken care of. “I was going to my home planet with Jack. _You_ went to a planet you’d never been to, with people you barely knew, just to get me back.” He smiled, shaking his head. “You learned to do research – I saw it in your notes. You have no idea how amazing you are, do you?”

The knot of despair that had been lodged in her chest since the day she arrived at the SGC loosened with his words. She could feel the burn of tears starting again with the relief of it and forced them back, sniffling. Warm wetness began to slide out of her nose, and she reached up to wipe it away.

“Let me take care of that,” Daniel said. He ran his thumb over her cheek and across her upper lip, cleaning off the moisture that was collecting there.

“I don’t wish to spoil the moment,” Sha’re said, her voice still thick from the aftermath of crying, “but that was snot.”

Daniel looked at his thumb wryly, then wiped it on his BDUs. “I thought it was tears.”

“Sorry,” Sha’re said. “Do you have a tissue?”

He shrugged apologetically. “You can use my T-shirt,” he said, untucking the hem and offering it to her.

“Wait,” Sha’re said. “You, of all people, have no tissues?”

“Claritin,” he said simply.

She looked at the fabric he proffered for a moment and reached for her sleeve. “I would feel better using my own shirt,” she said, and blew her nose, peeking sheepishly at him. He was smiling. “What?” she asked.

“You’ve changed. You weren’t this squeamish on Abydos,” he said, shaking his head in amusement.

“You Americans are very fastidious,” she said. She wiped her hands on her BDUs, then bent down to pick up her notebook. The room spun again, and she grabbed at Daniel’s arm. As things steadied, she slid her hand up to his shoulder and down his chest, unable to resist.  “You’ve changed, too. You’re so muscular.”

He looked away shyly. “I, uh, I’ve been practicing hand-to-hand,” he said. His smile only grew wider as he looked back at her, blue eyes glinting. “I’ve missed you, Sha’re,” he said. “You make me feel…” He suddenly looked sad and desperate.

“Me too,” she whispered, moving close to him so she could hold him one last time.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “I don’t either,” she said. “But we have to.”

 

The mirror was still on when they rushed into the anteroom. Sha’re grabbed Daniel’s wrist as he reached out to it. “What?” he asked, confused.

“Wait,” she said, checking the table, looking for the device they’d confiscated from her on the destroyed Earth. Her anxiety was rising. She could feel the clock ticking. She shouldn’t have spent so much time with Daniel. She had to get home, but she couldn’t leave without replacing what she’d lost. As soon as her eyes lit on the strange device on the table, she grabbed it. “I think it’s a remote for the mirror,” she said, sliding it into the pocket of her BDUs. “There should be one in your world as well.”

He touched his bag. “I have it here,” he said, then reached out to hold her hand tightly. 

They turned toward the dimensional mirror. Within it, Sha’re could see Sam, a Sam who had long hair hanging to her waist, entering the room. Her shocked blue eyes were fixed on them. Daniel seemed to recognize her; he reached toward the mirror, and Sha’re matched his gesture. With a sickening snap, they were on the other side, staring through the mirror into a now empty dimension.

“Hey!” Sam said. They turned to see her rushing toward them. “What was that? And who…” Her words trailed off as she stared at Sha’re. She fumbled clumsily for her gun.

Daniel held out his hand, stopping her. “Samantha, this is my wife Sha’re.” He looked at Sha’re, his mouth quirking up on one side. “Well, almost.” 

Teal’c entered the room at a fast clip, and Sha’re was dumbstruck. He wasn’t bald; instead, his hair was part blond, part brown, in a leopard pattern. She looked back at Sam. “I’m in the universe of bad hair,” she said under her breath. 

Jack stormed in on Teal’c’s heels. “Daniel, where the hell have you –” He stopped short when he saw Sha’re.

“I would love to explain this, but there is no time,” Sha’re said. She turned to Daniel. “Do you have another tape? I need evidence to bring back to my world. A tape with you on it may be enough.”

Daniel quickly popped one in to his camera.

“Your world? Explain to me what’s going on, _right now_ ,” Jack demanded.

Sha’re could feel time slipping away. It was like running in a nightmare. 

“There’s another dimension where Apophis destroyed the Stargate Agency,” Daniel said. “He may be coming for us, too.” He handed Sha’re the camera.

Sam looked at the now blank dimensional mirror, then back at Sha’re. “Wait. You mean that was showing me another dimension when you came through?”

“You’ve got intel on Apophis attacking Earth?” Jack demanded.

“Daniel has a videotape!” Sha’re said frantically. Daniel’s hand rested on her shoulder; she felt like it was the only thing keeping her from flying apart at the seams. “Please, I must record this quickly. I have to warn my world, too.” She focused the camera on Jack. “Just say who you are.”

His dark eyes bored into her, almost as hard as the eyes of the O’Neill in the destroyed SGU. She could tell he wanted to ask her more questions. “I’m Colonel Jack O’Neill. SG-1,” he said. 

Sha’re panned to Teal’c. “I am Teal’c,” he said, his voice just as stentorian as it was in her world. He was rigid and controlled as he looked at her. “The former First Prime to Apophis.”

Sha’re moved the camera on to Sam. “Doctor Samantha Carter, SG-1,” she said.

“Were you ever in the military, Sam?” Sha’re asked. She already knew the answer from the way Sam had handled the gun.

Sam shook her head, taken aback. “Samantha,” she corrected Sha’re. “No. I’m a physicist.”

Sha’re turned, stepping back for a close-up of Daniel’s face. His arms were crossed, boonie perched on his head. “I’m Dr. Daniel Jackson, and I’ve been a member of SG-1 since Apophis took my wife Sha’re as a host for the Goa’uld Amaunet.”

Sha’re stopped the camera. “I hope that’s enough,” she said, popping the tape out and slipping it in her pocket. She handed Daniel the camera. “I need to go through the mirror and you need to go,” she said.

Daniel nodded. “Jack,” he said, his eyes never leaving her as he slid the camera into his pack, “I’ll meet you at the Stargate in one minute.”

Sha’re could hear that intake of breath that said Jack wanted to argue. Samantha spoke before he could start. “Jack, if it were us…” she said. Sha’re heard the warmth in Samantha’s voice. She looked over to see Samantha reaching one hand out to take Jack’s. 

“One minute,” Jack said, voice hard. “Then I’m going to have Teal’c hit you over the head and drag you back.”

Sha’re glanced toward Teal’c. His face was still, but she could see the guilt in his eyes, making her wonder what roiling emotions her Teal’c had hidden all these months. “Teal’c,” she said, reaching a hand out to touch his. “You didn’t have a choice. I understand.”

Teal’c nodded once, eyes intense, then turned to the door.

“One minute,” Jack repeated to Daniel as he followed Teal’c and Samantha out.

Sha’re reached forward and touched the mirror remote on the table. The mirror popped on. 

“How will you know if it’s your universe?” Daniel asked.

Sha’re slid her finger over the remote. Though it flickered, table after table was covered with the same dusty artifacts. Then, suddenly, there was one where most of the artifacts had been removed. She squinted, then slid her finger a little further. This time, most of the artifacts were gone, and there was a boonie on the floor. “I dropped my hat before I came through,” she said. She took a deep breath, picked up her notebook and looked at Daniel uncertainly.

Daniel put his hands on Sha’re’s shoulders. She got that hollow feeling inside her chest again. 

He licked his lips. “If I were your Daniel –“ he said, then looked away for a moment. When his eyes met hers again, they were wet. “I’m just saying, I think I’d understand.”

“I think I would, too,” she said softly. After a moment, they kissed.

It was even more hungry and impassioned than their last kiss. Sha’re let the kiss take her over, trying to emblazon every moment of it in her memory, the feeling of Daniel’s soft lips on hers, his hands gripping her tightly, the stubbly rasp of his jawline under her fingers, the press of his hard chest against hers, the feel of his bicep and the muscles that flexed over his shoulder blades under her hand. Time – time was running away from them both. She only wished she had more of it.

“Thirty seconds!” she heard Jack call.

As they broke off their kiss, Sha’re grabbed Daniel’s hands. “Women rule P3X-989,” she said urgently. “Send an all-female team, or they’ll kidnap the men and try to keep them. But they have useful technology.”

Daniel nodded. “Don’t go to P3X-797 without taking antihistamines. And bring a bunch. There’s a disease that regresses people into primitivism, but it’s cured by antihistamines.”

“There are ancient ruins on P2A-404, but Nirrti has Jaffa there. At least in our world. We got ambushed,” Sha’re said. “Plus you’ll be up to your chest in swamp.”

“Don’t take Teal’c to Cimmeria,” Daniel said. “There’s a device there that destroys Goa’uld but keeps the host alive.” He looked down, his jaw working. “I had to destroy it to save Teal’c. But you might be able to use it to get your Daniel back.” He shook his head, reached for his pack, and pulled out the leather-bound book that was twin to his own. “There’s too much to tell you,” he said, holding it out to her. “I don’t want to miss anything important.”

Sha’re took his diary and handed him her own. 

“I’m sending Teal’c now!” Jack called. “Daniel, you’d better not have stepped through that mirror.”

Quickly, Sha’re yanked her dog tags over her head and held them out to Daniel. He tore his off and slid them around her neck. As she put hers over his head, he grabbed her by her jacket and roughly pulled her toward him. They kissed desperately one last time.

Sha’re clutched his notebook to her chest and stared into his eyes as she stepped backwards. In her peripheral vision, she could see motion in the mirror, but she didn’t want to take her eyes off Daniel.

“You’re hurt,” he said. “I don’t want you to go back alone.”

“I have to,” Sha’re said. “Daniel, I love you.”

He reached toward her. “I love you, Sha’re.”

“I love you,” she said again, reaching one hand out for the mirror.

He stepped forward. “I love –“

With a sickening twist, he vanished. Sha’re stared at an empty room.

“Hey!” Sha’re heard Sam — _her_ Sam — shout from the doorway, her voice starting mid-word as if Sha’re had hit play on a videotape. But instead of turning toward Sam, she looked in the mirror. 

Daniel stood on the other side, looking as forlorn as she felt. She reached up a hand to wave goodbye to him.

“Hey!” Sha’re heard Jack’s voice behind her. Suddenly, it rose half an octave. “Hey! Is that –”

“It’s Daniel,” she said, as the mirror winked out. “You may have some trouble believing what just happened.” 

She turned around. The room continued to spin even when she stopped, and things began to go dark around the edges. With Daniel’s notebook clutched to her chest like a lifeline, she fell to the floor, unconscious.

 

Once again, her head was muzzy and throbbing, and her mouth tasted like she’d been French-kissing a mastadge. Sha’re hoped this wasn’t becoming a trend.

Then she remembered that the sensation wasn’t from doing tequila shots with Janet. As her eyes flew open, she groped around for the journal Daniel had given her.

“Hey, hey,” Jack said, reaching for her hand. “It’s okay. You’re in the infirmary.”

Sha’re shook her head. “No. Jack, It’s not okay. Apophis is coming.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Apophis approaching, the team confronts an unexpected threat in the form of Senator Kinsey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack entered, shaking his head. “Hammond tried everything,” he said. “No one’s listening. The Joint Chiefs, the President – they’re all bowing down to Kinsey. He did manage to requisition one budget item, for one more piece of outbound Gate travel.” He looked at Teal’c and Sha’re. “You two have your bus ticket out of here, if you want it.”

An hour later, Sha’re sat in the conference room with Jack, Sam, Teal’c and General Hammond. As she filled them in on the threat from Apophis, they filled her in on an even more imminent threat.

“General Hammond, just let us go and check out that gate address Sha’re brought back,” Jack said. “We’ll go, we’ll look, and we’ll be back with a report before Senator Kinsey and Major Samuels –“

“Lieutenant Colonel Samuels,” Sam corrected, disgust dripping from her words.

“ _Lieutenant Colonel_ Samuels even have time to get this meeting on our budget started,” Jack finished.

Hammond shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Colonel. The President has ordered us to cease Gate travel, except for incoming teams, until Senator Kinsey makes his decision on our financing.”

“Well, surely he cannot argue against this,” Sha’re said, gesturing toward the freeze-frame of the alternate universe Jack and Samantha on the TV screen. 

The room went silent for a moment.

“Actually, he could,” Sam said. “No one in the videotape says that Apophis is coming. And even if he destroyed the Earth in that universe, we have no proof that he’s coming here.”

“Sha’re Jackson is right,” Teal’c said. “If Apophis wishes to attack Earth as retribution for the destruction of Ra, as well as the many other things the Tau’ri has done since, it would take this long to build an army. Would this Kinsey doubt her words?”

Jack and Hammond looked at each other. “Let’s save it for last. It’ll be our Hail Mary if things go wrong.” Jack said.

“Senator Kinsey has all the records from the Stargate program,” Hammond said. “We’ve done good work here. If he’s viewing it with an open mind, it may not come to that.”

 

Late that night, Sha’re sat on her bunk in her quarters, Daniel’s notebook resting on her desk and a new notebook in her lap. So many of his adventures had been different from hers, and yet they both wound up in the same place, at least for a moment. 

Sha’re propped her feet up on the side of her desk, the silver toe ring Daniel had given her back on Abydos shining in the light of the desk lamp. She took out her pen, smoothed the first virgin page, and began to write.

> _Dear Daniel,_
> 
> _I thought that Apophis would be the only enemy we would have to fight. Instead, I have come home to learn that tomorrow, we will do battle with a senator who somehow controls the purse strings of the entire United States military, or at least of this program._
> 
> _General Hammond, Jack and Sam are worried. Teal’c and I are not. Once he sees what we know, how could he possibly prevent us from completing our mission? Earth is in danger. We must keep it safe. I have met the men and women of your world, and almost all seem like good people. I believe that, at heart, this Kinsey will turn out to be the same._

Sha’re leaned back against the concrete wall for a moment, looking at her ceiling. She ran one finger over her lips, thinking of every kiss she had shared with that other Daniel on P3R-233. She felt as giddy as she had the first time she kissed him on Abydos. She could live off his kisses.

> _I think if I had not seen you, just a few hours ago, I would be lost in despair right now. But seeing you gave me the strength to continue. To know that somewhere there is a Daniel who has suffered as I have, to know that you fight to get your Sha’re back as I fight for the return of my Daniel – it gives me a new hope that, someday, I will find_ my _Daniel again._
> 
> _Soon, we will fight Apophis. I only hope, at the end of it, I can bring my Daniel home._
> 
> _Love always,_
> 
> _Sha’re_

She slipped her pen into the notebook, then tied it shut. Sliding under the covers, she reached up and turned out the light. Her fingers drifted over Daniel’s notebook as she lay down. 

It was the closest tie she had to him. She brought the notebook under the covers, clutching it to her chest as if she were holding a piece of him, and fell asleep.

 

Senator Kinsey, Jack decided quickly, had a very closed mind. From the moment he walked in the conference room, it was clear that he had already decided to cut off the funding for the Stargate program, probably with a great deal of “advice” from Samuels. Kinsey went through their records and twisted every single mission they’d been on, discounting their good deeds and overstating the threat they’d caused to Earth. 

Hammond looked at Jack and nodded. Jack wheeled out the videotape Sha’re had brought back. Everybody watched in silence.

When it was over, Senator Kinsey shook his head. “You folks have pulled some ridiculous stunts in the past to keep your funding, but this one takes the cake.”

“You’re calling this a _stunt_ , sir?” Jack said, anger snapping through his voice. Hammond gave him a warning look, but really, Jack thought he was demonstrating admirable self-control.

“You think you can put Captain Carter and Teal’c in bad wigs, make a videotape and get me to believe that you’ve been to some ‘alternate universe’?” Kinsey used his fingers to put air quotes around the last two words. “I’m surprised you didn’t put a fake goatee on Colonel O’Neil! This isn’t some science fiction movie. This is real life.”

“Y’know, she’s from another planet,” Jack said laconically. If they were going to go down, might as well go down fighting. “At this point, real life and science fiction are lookin’ pretty similar.” 

“Senator Kinsey, my husband was on that tape,” Sha’re said. “That alone is evidence enough that this comes from another universe. He has been possessed by Apophis in this one.”

“And what proof do I have of that?” Kinsey said. “Your _word_? For all I know, you just hid him back on your planet and claimed he was captured in order to collect his benefits. Basic pay, special pay, incentive pay for hazardous duty, basic allowance for housing and subsistence, family separation allowance one and two,” Kinsey listed off. “As I’m sure Colonel O’Neill has told you, that money sure adds up.”

“You forgot station per diem and hostile fire pay,” Jack said coldly.

“You don’t even have the credentials to be on a team like this,” Kinsey said. “Your greatest qualification is that you were married to an archaeologist. A marriage with dubious legal legitimacy in the United States, I might add.”

“Whatever you may think of her experience, the fact remains that Sha’re Jackson tells the truth,” Teal’c said. “Apophis is coming. Once he arrives here, he will make slaves of all of you.”

“When he arrives, he will face the wrath of the United States military,” Senator Kinsey retorted. “As of now, consider this program closed. The Stargate will be buried within the week.” Kinsey stood and left the room, his entourage trailing after him.

Samuels turned as he left. “For the record,” he said, “I’m sorry it had to end like this.”

“When Apophis comes, I hope he takes you first,” Sha’re replied.

“What she said,” Jack said.

“Get out!” General Hammond roared at Samuels.

Somehow, Jack had expected Samuels to wear a smug expression at the end of it all. Instead, as he turned to go down the stairs, he just looked sad. A silent pall hung over the room as his footsteps drifted away. Hammond, Teal’c, Sha’re, Sam and Jack all stared at each other.

“Well,” Jack said, breaking the silence. “That could have gone better.”

Teal’c slowly stood up from the table. “If the Stargate is to be closed and buried, I must leave for Chulak.”

Sha’re got to her feet. “And I must go with him,” she said.

Jack rose from his chair. “I’ve always wanted to see more of the universe,” he said.

Hammond shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no one is going anywhere. The president has made it perfectly clear that if we were unable to convince the Senator, we would cease operations, effective immediately.”

“What about the SG teams that are offworld?” Sam asked.

“We’ll keep the light on for them until they return, but that’s all I’m authorized to do,” Hammond replied.

Teal’c and Sha’re exchanged a look. “General,” Sha’re said, “if Teal’c and I am not allowed to leave, then we are effectively prisoners of Earth.”

General Hammond looked grim. “I’m well aware of that, Mrs. Jackson. But Kinsey is the elected representative of the government we have sworn to serve. Our commander in chief has given us our orders, and I expect you to follow them. Dismissed.”

Hammond strode into his office and shut his door. 

 

Two days later, Sam, Teal’c and Sha’re waited in the common area that Sha’re and Teal’c had claimed as their own, earlier in the year. Sam paced back and forth along one side of the room. Sha’re sat on the back of the couch, toes bouncing on the seat, drumming on her legs. Teal’c sat impassively in the overstuffed chair, but anyone who knew him well could see the tension brewing under the seemingly imperturbable surface.

Jack entered, shaking his head. “Hammond tried everything,” he said. “No one’s listening. The Joint Chiefs, the President – they’re all bowing down to Kinsey. He did manage to requisition one budget item, for one more piece of outbound Gate travel.” He looked at Teal’c and Sha’re. “You two have your bus ticket out of here, if you want it.”

Sha’re and Teal’c looked at each other. “We have already discussed this,” Teal’c said.

“We’re going through to the coordinates I got in the other reality,” Sha’re said.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s what the General had in mind,” Sam said. “Besides, that gate address might not even work!”

“We have only one way of learning this, and that is to dial the Gate address,” Teal’c said.

Jack shook his head. “Are you _nuts_?” he asked incredulously. “You think you two can take on a Goa’uld army?”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement lifting the corners of his mouth. “We do have the advantage of surprise, O’Neill. If they are to be attacked, Apophis will be expecting a large force in a frontal assault. Strategic sabotage could cripple his forces before they begin their strike on Earth.”

“And you two are going to do this on your own?” Jack asked incredulously.

Teal’c nodded. “Indeed.”

Sha’re locked her hands around her knees and leaned forwards, looking Jack in the eye. “Of course, it would be more effective if we had an extra set of hands.” She glanced at Sam. “Or two.”

Sam shook her head. “Even if we could, it would be grounds for immediate court-martial,” she said.

“Would you prefer to retain your rank and die in Apophis’ assault on Earth, or come with us and do something to stop it?” Sha’re shot back.

“You’re talking about the three of us against an army!” Jack said.

“O’Neill,” Teal’c said, rising to his feet and standing in front of Jack. “When I met you, you said that you could save the prisoners about to die at the hands of the Goa’uld. I told you then that you were the first man I believed could do it.” He rested his hands on Jack’s shoulders. “I still do,” he said quietly.

Sha’re held her breath anxiously, waiting for Jack’s answer.

“Yeah. Yeah, all right,” Jack said. “Do First Primes take classes in giving stirring speeches?” 

Teal’c smiled. “Master Bra’tac was well-known for his expertise in the subject.”

Everyone looked at Sam, who looked pale and terrified.

“Sam, I am sorry for what I said. I know you have the most to lose of all of us,” Sha’re said.

“This isn’t an order, Captain,” Jack said.

Sam looked at the floor. When she looked up again, her face was still pale, but determined. “Okay,” she said. “I’m in.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sam and Jack try to sabotage Apophis's fleet, Sha're takes Teal'c on a mission to rescue her husband Daniel from the Goa'uld that lives inside him.
> 
> Warning for graphic violence and rape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teal’c heard a rustle of cloth, and could picture Sha’re Jackson crossing her arms, tucking her chin down a little bit so she was looking up at him from beneath her eyelids. “Daniel’s journal – the other Daniel’s journal – said he met a woman named Kendra, who had been host to a Goa’uld. She was able to fight down the Goa’uld. I believe Daniel can do the same.”

The SGC was a ghost town, Jack thought, the few people still left all dedicated to shredding files, shutting down equipment, and arranging for supplies to be sent elsewhere. Changing into dark clothes and slipping down to the abandoned control room was easy.

“Carter, you OK?” Jack asked.

Captain Carter took a deep breath. “I’ve never disobeyed a direct order from a general before, sir.”

“Trust me, it doesn’t get any easier with practice,” Jack said grimly. He waved at the control panel. “Fire it up.”

As Carter entered the Stargate coordinates, Jack bent over a second terminal, entering the codes to shut the blast doors in the corridors leading to the Gateroom. 

“Unauthorized gate activation!” a mechanized voice said over the speakers.

“Well, there goes my pension,” Jack said, looking up at the ceiling. “Send out the MALP.”

Via infrared, they could see the room on the other side of the Stargate, obviously Goa’uld of some sort. As they stared at the screen, loud metallic banging echoed down the hall into the control room, followed by a mechanical groan.

“So much for those blast doors. All right. Time’s up. Move out,” Jack said. Outwardly he projected calm; inside he could feel his guts twisting into a knot. The moment he’d started down this path, he knew there was no turning back. No matter how this turned out, he would face a court martial when he returned.

The team ran up the ramp, pulling on their night goggles, and entered the cool glow of the event horizon.

Once they came out the other side and surveyed the area, Jack gestured at the remote detection device they’d brought back from Earth. “Send the MALP back through the Gate, Carter,” he whispered. “Or they’re going to be deducting the thing from our taxes until we’re 800.” He pulled off his night vision goggles and flipped on his flashlight.

Sha’re quickly followed suit. “Teal’c, where are the doors?”

Teal’c eyed the room. “Many Goa’uld disguise their doors in a gate room such as this, so as to prevent any invaders from leaving easily,” he whispered.

Sha’re’s flashlight beam crept higher, the glow from the event horizon aiding her in her attempt to penetrate the darkness. “That explains the lack of windows. We must be in an interior room.”

Jack tapped on a large golden rectangle. “What’s in the box, Teal’c?” The hairs were starting to rise on the back of his neck. They had to move out soon.

Teal’c opened the crate while the MALP went through the Stargate.. “This is a zat’nik’atel. It is an energy weapon. One shot renders the recipient unconscious. A second shot, and they die.” 

“Sounds handy,” Jack said. “Zat gun, huh? Deal ‘em out.”

Sha’re turned her head. “I hear something,” she said. 

Before she could say any more, the doors slid open. The three Jaffa on their way in began shouting as soon as they saw the open event horizon.

Jack grabbed one of the zat guns and rolled behind a container. Sha’re ducked behind a pile of boxes. Carter was stranded in the middle of the room; even as the event horizon closed, the light from the hallway shone on her enough to make her visible. The lead Jaffa trained his weapon on her; the two Jaffa behind, holding a large crate between them, hurriedly tried to put it down.

Teal’c moved behind the open zat case, activating his weapon with a touch and laying down covering fire for Carter, catching the front Jaffa by surprise. Jack touched his in the same spot, and the weapon popped open. He lined up his shot and pegged the guy in back. The Jaffa began convulsing, wreathed in light, doing a St. Vitus Dance down to the floor. Carter took down the Jaffa in the middle. His friend in front soon joined him.

“That noise is gonna draw some attention,” Jack said. “We need to get rid of these bodies.”

Teal’c, after picking up the lead Jaffa’s staff weapon, fired on each Jaffa twice more with his zat gun. They vanished.

“That’s convenient,” Jack said, nonplussed, as Teal’c tucked the zat gun into his belt, the staff weapon obviously his tool of choice. “All right, everyone, we’ll plan on the move.”

As they ran out into the hall, he let Teal’c take the lead. “Well, this sure blew the surprise element,” he said to Teal’c as they ran.

“They will assume that a large force came through, and that is what they will be searching for,” Teal’c said. “Surprise is still on our side.”

They ran around one corner, then another. The floor suddenly moved underneath them.

Carter grabbed the doorframe. “Earthquake?” she asked anxiously.

Teal’c’s eyes went wide as he looked at his surroundings. “No. This is a ship.”

Down the hall, they could hear a clamor near the Gate room. “Well, we’re not getting off this boat anytime soon,” Jack said.

“Sir, we’re not going to be able to get off at all!” Carter said.

Sha’re’s jaw dropped. “The Stargate system depends on a fixed point of origin!” she said. “If we’re traveling through space, we can’t Gate back!”

“Why didn’t you warn us?” Jack asked Teal’c.

Teal’c shook his head. “I have never been aboard a ship large enough to have its own Stargate. This must be a new type of vessel.”

The voices down the corridor drew closer. Jack gestured for everyone to keep moving. Teal’c was again in the lead, Sha’re at his heels, Carter right behind. Jack took up the rear. They rounded a corner and raced down the hall, as quickly and silently as possible.

Jack heard the door in the corridor open before he saw it. He grabbed Carter by the collar and yanked her back around the corner, catching a quick glimpse of Teal’c and Sha’re diving around a corner in front of them and an even quicker flash of Jaffa walking into the corridor.

He and Carter pressed against the wall, only a few feet away from the Jaffa. Jack could feel his pulse pounding in his throat as he waited to see if their steps would move toward him or away. 

“My lord Apophis wishes Klorel to make the first strike against the _Tau’ri_. Once he has done so, you will be free to lead your death gliders against the planet – but you shall not launch until the first city has been destroyed. Do you understand?” the Jaffa said.

“Yes, master,” the other Jaffa said. “I will inform my wing immediately.”

Jack lifted his zat gun, ready to shoot the Jaffa if they rounded the corner. But instead of coming their way, the footsteps receded into the distance. Jack breathed out in relief. For the moment, at least, they’d escaped detection.

“Sounds like they’re preparing for battle,” Jack whispered. “How fast can this ship go?”

Carter extended her hands in frustration. “Sir, according to Earth science, faster than light travel isn’t even possible,” she hissed back. “But obviously, the Goa’uld have found some way around it. If we want to find out how long this is going to take, we’d better ask Teal’c.”

Jack listened before he popped his head back into the main corridor. Teal’c and Sha’re were nowhere to be seen. He and Carter quickly raced down the corridor to the spot where they’d last seen the other half of SG-1. A long look down both hallways turned up nothing.

“Dammit,” Jack swore. He knew Teal’c and Sha’re must have fled in order to avoid discovery, but now there was no way to reach them. He’d been on some insanely screwed up missions before, but this one took the cake.  

“Well, Carter,” he whispered, “looks like we’re on our own.”

 

Teal’c and Sha’re Jackson stood, hidden in the shadows, in a dark storage room. The doors of the room were open; directly outside, a Jaffa was giving orders. 

“Ensure that each Death Glider is fully equipped,” he said. “I will go now to speak to my lord Apophis.”

Teal’c saw Sha’re Jackson’s eyes go wide as the Jaffa began walking away. The doors closed, leaving them in utter darkness.

He could not see Sha’re Jackson, but the passionate tone of her voice told him exactly what her expression must be. “Teal’c, we must go find him,” she hissed.

“It would be unwise,” Teal’c replied. “Though we may still have surprise on our side, it is more likely that he is already heavily guarded. We would be hard pressed to fight our way through more than a handful of Jaffa.”

Teal’c heard a rustle of cloth, and could picture Sha’re Jackson crossing her arms, tucking her chin down a little bit so she was looking up at him from beneath her eyelids. “Daniel’s journal – the other Daniel’s journal – said he met a woman named Kendra, who had been host to a Goa’uld. She was able to fight down the Goa’uld. I believe Daniel can do the same.”

Teal’c chose his words carefully. “In all the time I served Apophis, I never knew him to allow the host to take control.”

“But that does not mean it can’t happen!” Sha’re Jackson said in an emphatic whisper. He heard the back of her hand strike her other palm. “Daniel is strong. He is stronger than anyone I have ever met. If there is anyone who can fight down the Goa’uld, it is him.”

Sha’re Jackson’s faith was based on love, not logic, Teal’c knew. He could think of many arguments against her plan, but his mind kept coming down to one fact. It was because of him that Daniel Jackson was now the host to Apophis. Though he did not think her plan had a high likelihood of success, he was bound by honor to try to help Sha’re Jackson get her husband back.

“We will find him,” Teal’c said. “But if he attempts to harm us, I will kill him.” He reached for the door latch.

“I know,” Sha’re Jackson replied. She was silhouetted as the doors slid open. “Should we try to find Sam and Jack?”

Teal’c shook his head. “We do not know where they are. We only know the one place they are not – the Gate room.”

 

“We have to go back to the Gate room, sir,” Sam said, desperate to convince the Colonel.

Colonel O’Neill shook his head. “You gotta be kidding me,” he said. “That place has gotta be crawlin’ with Jaffa now.”

Sam nodded. “Yes, sir. But if we’re going to bring this ship down, that’s the only way. If we’re going to get the most bang for our buck out of our C-4, we need to put it on an object that will magnify the intensity of the explosion. The naquadah in the gate should do just that.”

“By how much?” Colonel O’Neill asked. 

Sam performed a mental calculation that was 20 percent hard numbers, 30 percent hypothesizing, and 50 percent a pure guess. “On the low side, I’d say with what we’ve got we could get the explosion up to a kiloton,” she said. “Way bigger than a bunker buster, smaller than Little Boy.”

O’Neill’s eyebrows rose. “Well, that oughta put a dent in this bucket of bolts.”

“I just don’t know how we’re going to get there,” Sam said. 

The thud of Jaffa boots echoed down the hall. O’Neill and Sam ducked into a doorway.

O’Neill looked at her, dark eyes snapping with fire. “I’ve got an idea,” he said.

A minute later, energy bolts hissed through the corridor. Two bodies hit the floor. 

Seven minutes later, in an alcove off the hallway, the Colonel settled an armored cap on top of Sam’s hair. He pulled out a Sharpie; she felt him draw an oval with a wavy line through it on her forehead, the same as the one she’d done on his. She tried to take a deep breath, but the armor stopped her halfway. Her breasts were so compressed she felt like she was practicing for a mammogram. “These suits weren’t designed for women,” she said.

O’Neill twisted his hips uncomfortably, then tugged at his pants. “They’re not so good for guys, either,” he said.

Sam smoothed one hand down the front of her armor. “Do I pass?” she asked.

O’Neill eyed her critically. “It’s a good thing you’re tall. You’ll do at a distance. Hopefully we won’t have to get any closer,” he said. “Me?” 

“Sir, if you’re not careful, Apophis will try to hire you,” she said.

“Great,” O’Neill said, lifting one hand to his helmet. “Once the Air Force kicks me out, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Marching like any other two Jaffa on the ship, they walked down the corridor toward the Stargate.

 

It took Sha’re and Teal’c over an hour to find Apophis, and Sha’re grew more frustrated and anxious by the minute. They would often reach one corner to hear Jaffa in the next corridor and have to find alternate routes. Teal’c’s general knowledge of the layout of Goa’uld warships didn’t seem to apply to this new class. More than once they had to double back after reaching a dead end. She wanted to scream at him in frustration, even though she knew it wasn’t his fault. They stashed their backpacks in a room that seemed unused, the better to make their way through the corridors undetected.

Finally, they could hear Apophis’ voice, low and alien, rolling down the hall. “When we arrive at the planet of the _Tau’ri_ , you will beam over to Klorel’s ship. You will focus on the continents here and here. He will lead the final ground assault. But I will be the only one to accept surrender from the planet’s leaders.”

“They have two ships?” Sha’re whispered to Teal’c. “What will we do?”

He looked at her, face set. “First we will capture Apophis. Once we have done that, we will decide what to do about the other ship.”

“Right,” Sha’re whispered, trying to loosen her shoulders. In her head, she was already rehearsing what she would say to Daniel, to help him fight Apophis. _We know you can fight him down. You are stronger than any man I have ever known. You can defeat Apophis. I love you._ “If you can hold him, I can talk to Daniel.”

Teal’c nodded. “There will be two Jaffa stationed on either side of the door. We must defeat them quickly, before Apophis can send an alarm to his men. Once this Jaffa leaves, we will begin our attack.” He paused. “If this does not work, I must kill Apophis.”

Sha’re nodded, holding the _zat’nik’atel_ Teal’c had handed her at the ready, reminding herself to breathe. Her heart pounded. Her hands were sweating.

They could do this. They could do this. They had to do this. They could not afford to lose.

Boots thudded into the hall, walking away from them. Teal’c waited until Sha’re could hear no more footsteps, then waited a minute more. He nodded to her.

Sha’re and Teal’c ran around the corner. The two Jaffa at the door moved their staff weapons to attack, but too late. Sha’re fired, hitting the Jaffa on the near side of the door, and fired again as he collapsed to the floor. Teal’c took the other Jaffa out even more swiftly with his staff weapon. Before the two Jaffa had even finished falling, they were inside the room with Apophis. 

Sha’re tucked the zat into her belt, switching to her pistol. Teal’c reached next to the door, twisting one of the symbols. The door slid shut, and he fired at the locking mechanism, sealing it.

Daniel stood in the center of the room, clad in a gilded loincloth and sandals, his upper body draped in gold armor that seemed designed more to accent his bare arms than for any practical purpose. His ashen hair, falling in waves down his shoulders, was held back by a circlet with a serpent motif. His wide blue eyes narrowed as he looked into hers, his mouth in a sullen pout she had never seen Daniel wear.

“Daniel!” Sha’re said. “Daniel, you can fight him!”

Before she could say anything more, his eyes flared gold and his hand came up. A beam of energy came from the ribbon device in Apophis’ hand, flinging Teal’c away. As Teal’c flew through the air, he fired, the energy bolt striking Apophis’ shoulder, hurling him back toward the floor. 

Sha’re gritted her teeth, forcibly overriding her instinct to run to Teal’c as she heard him hit the wall. _Don’t tend to the wounded unless at least one person is covering the enemy_. Sam, Teal’c and Jack had all drilled that into her over and over again. She raised her gun, aiming it resolutely at Daniel. _Apophi_ s, she reminded herself. She squared her stance, staring at the figure crumpled seated against the wall.

He looked up at her, grasping his burned shoulder, his eyes desperate and pleading. She knew in that instant it was not Apophis who lay before her; it was Daniel. “Sha’re,” he gasped, none of the telltale vibrato of the Goa’uld symbiote in his voice. “Kill me, quick.”

“What?” she said, alarmed. She squatted in front of him, letting the tip of the gun drop to the floor, and reached out her hand toward his damaged shoulder. “Daniel, you can fight — “

Suddenly, his eyes flared gold. She tried to get her pistol up, but it was too late. He rose up violently, his face contorted in an expression Daniel would never make, and threw her aside with a terrifying strength Daniel never had. As she slammed against the sarcophagus, she lost her grip on her gun. She could hear it sliding across the uneven surface. Before she could even react, Apophis stood toe to toe with her.

"In my head, I can hear your husband,” Apophis said, his voice a low growl. She tensed, looking for an opening. If he was talking, maybe he wasn’t paying attention. “Often, I hear him talking. Right now, he is screaming. He will not be quiet."  

Daniel was fighting. It was only a matter of time. Sha’re smiled, baring her teeth at Apophis. “That’s my Daniel,” she said.

She saw his punch coming before he struck, and turned her face quickly, seeing stars as he grazed her cheekbone. She grasped his hand after it connected, twisting it just as she’d practiced so many times with Sam and Teal’c. Once she had him in a joint lock, she would talk to Daniel until he fought Apophis down.

Before she could finish the move, everything around her went ripply, smeary, covered with a golden glow. Her head rang, and all her muscles went soft and loose, her hands drifting away from Apophis’ arm. _Ribbon device_ , she thought, feeling the thought float off into the distance. She should have grabbed his other hand.

Her head rang, and everything seemed far away. She felt herself spun around, thrown down onto something solid, her legs pushed apart. Then suddenly, brutally, things snapped back into focus. She was on her stomach, half-on, half-off the sarcophagus, her pants were around her knees, and she could feel a tearing sensation inside as Apophis pushed into her, his hands leaving a trail of bruises all over her body. He felt like Daniel, but he smelled like someone else, like Daniel’s scent gone sweet and sickening. It couldn’t be real. It hurt too much not to be real. _This has to be a nightmare. This has to be a nightmare._

She tried to seal her mouth tight, not wanting to give Apophis the satisfaction of hearing her scream, but she could hardly move. He slammed into her again. Her jaw tightened, and she knew her muscular control was coming back. Sha’re kicked backwards, and grunted in satisfaction when her heel slammed straight into Apophis’ leg. She had hesitated once, not wanting to hurt Daniel. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Apophis’ knee slammed into the back of her knee, and her leg collapsed, the sarcophagus the only thing holding her up. He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back until she could see his face. He smiled at her cruelly. Then he bit her on the neck, tearing at her skin. She screamed.

Her gun was on the sarcophagus, just on the other side. She threw herself forward, reaching for the pistol, feeling her flesh tear under Apophis’ teeth, ignoring the pain as her hair pulled out of her head, ignoring the pain as he tore her between her legs. Her fingers were so close, only an inch away. She pushed herself up, straining, and Apophis brutally slammed one hand between her shoulder blades. Her chin hit the sarcophagus so hard it was like receiving an uppercut. She saw stars. She blinked them away. If she could just reach one more inch, she could get her gun.

Apophis wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides, immobilizing her as he thrust. She knew how to get out of this hold – if she could just slide her left foot back, she knew she could throw him off. 

Fingers grazed her hip in that secret, special spot that only Daniel knew of, and Sha’re’s breath caught, her hips bucking back purely by instinct. She squeezed her eyes shut, hating her body for that split-second betrayal.

Apophis leaned close. "I will make you my queen,” he whispered, his voice a buzzing growl in her ear. His hand slid up between her thighs, over her hips, leaving a wet smear behind. “Then you will be beside him forever." She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. His foul, sweet smell was overwhelming. Her eyes searched the room, looking for anything within her grasp that she could use to defend herself. She looked up at Apophis from the corner of her eyes. As he pushed himself off her, his blue eyes narrowed, full of menace. 

The sound of a staff blast filled the room, its bright, burning light wrapping around Apophis’ torso. The edges of the energy singed her bare flesh as Apophis reeled back, crashing to the floor.

A pair of hands touched her shoulders. She froze. Instead of hurting her, though, these hands moved gently, lifting her from the sarcophagus.

“Sha’re Jackson, we must move quickly,” Teal’c said. Outside, she could hear shouting and the sound of staff fire hitting the doors. 

She quickly pulled up her pants, trying to ignore the pain she felt everywhere. Then she looked across the room at Apophis’ crumpled body.

His eyes met hers, wide and blue, and she knew it was not Apophis who lay before her. “Daniel?” she whispered, moving forward.

His right hand rose off the floor, just a little, reaching for her. Then his eyes went glassy, his hand falling to the floor.

“No…” she whispered.

“Sha’re Jackson!” Teal’c said urgently, grabbing her by the shoulders. It took her a minute to focus on him. Everything felt unreal, like she was watching from a distance. “You must grieve later. Your husband would want you to save yourself.” He held her gun out to her.

It took a moment for the words to make sense to her. Then she reached out, grasping the butt of the pistol, feeling its comforting weight in her hand. “What do we do?” she asked.

He focused on the door. “When they open, we shoot,” he said.

It wasn’t much of a strategy, but Sha’re wasn’t in a state to follow complicated strategy anyway. She readied her gun, aiming at the door. She’d lost Daniel because she’d held back for just one moment. This time, she wouldn’t hesitate. 

As soon as the doors opened, she began firing. Teal’c, meanwhile, reached into his pocket, extracting a grenade. After firing twice with his staff weapon, he pulled the pin, counted to three, and tossed it into the hallway. Sha’re rolled over the sarcophagus, ducking down the other side to avoid the blast; Teal’c flattened himself against the wall next to Daniel’s corpse.

Even with her hands over her ears, the sound of the grenade in the hallway made Sha’re’s ears ring. Before she could get up from her spot behind the sarcophagus, she heard a loud whine and saw a bright light coming from the hallway. “What is that?” she shouted to Teal’c.

“Jaffa shock grenade,” Teal’c said. “It must have been dropped. Close your eyes.”

She covered her ears, closed her eyes and ducked. It got louder and brighter for a moment, then cut out.

“Sha’re Jackson, we must run!” Teal’c called out to her.

In the hallway, they raced through the mangled bodies of dead and unconscious Jaffa. Every brush of cloth against her legs made the pain of her burns worse. Her entire body hurt. All she could see were Daniel’s dead eyes.

 

Jack knew their outfits wouldn’t have stood up to close inspection, but at a distance, they seemed to work. The one time they had spotted Jaffa at the other end of a long corridor, they hadn’t even gotten a second glance; the other Jaffa didn’t seem to notice the bags Jack and Carter were carrying. 

In what seemed like no time at all, they were back in the Gate room. The two Jaffa at the door didn’t give them a second glance when they marched down the hall, which made the snake soldiers infinitely easier to pick off. Jack had to admit the disintegration thing was kinda cool, but it also bothered him. It made war too neat and tidy and left families without a body to bury.

“We’re gonna put a timer on these,” Jack said as they attached the C-4 to the Stargate. “If we get caught looking for Teal’c and Sha’re, I still want these things to go off.”

“Yes, sir,” Carter said, with a swallow. “Let’s hope if they capture us they hold us on the same floor; we’ll be dead before we feel anything.”

Jack clapped her on the shoulder. “You know what I like about you, Carter? Your optimism.”

If it had been Kawalski or Feretti, they would have sworn at him. Carter, perfect soldier that she was, didn’t even roll her eyes – but he could hear her rolling them in her head. Placing her last charge, she pulled the timer out of her pack. “How long do you want to set it for?”

“Do you have any idea how fast this thing is flying?” Jack asked.

Carter shook her head. “Based on the coordinates we were at, it would take at least five hundred years to get to Earth via slower than light travel.”

“They wouldn’t be making battle plans if we weren’t going to get there for five hundred years,” Jack said. “Set it for three hours.”

 

Teal’c could hear how uneven the rhythm of Sha’re’s Jackson’s steps were as they stumbled down the hall. He could not help her. Several of his ribs had been broken when Apophis had used the ribbon device to cast him against the wall, and the constant ringing in his head boded ill. Teal’c’s injuries were more than a night of _kel’no’reem_ would fix, especially with his new and weak symbiote. He no longer believed they would survive to get to Earth, where Dr. Fraiser’s infirmary could help repair the damage. He could only hope that he and Sha’re Jackson would complete the mission, so that they could die free. 

By sheer chance, they succeeded in avoiding all Jaffa patrols as they traced their way back to the small storage area where they had left their backpacks. 

“We must go back,” Sha’re Jackson said as she picked up her backpack. “We have to destroy the sarcophagus.”

Teal’c shook his head, trying not to breathe too deeply lest the raw edges of his fractured ribs brush against his bruised lungs. “We cannot. The room will be too heavily guarded.” He lifted his pack gingerly.

“We fought our way through once,” Sha’re Jackson said stubbornly.

“They were not expecting us,” Teal’c said. “And neither of us had suffered the injuries we now bear.”

Sha’re glared at him. Her rapidly swelling cheekbone forced one eye into a squint. “We must ensure that Apophis stays dead so they cannot attack Earth,” she said.

“Were we to remove Apophis, this ship and Klorel’s would still attack,” Teal’c said. “We must destroy both ships in order to preserve Earth.”

“And how will we do that?” Sha’re asked angrily.

On an almost subliminal level, Teal’c heard a change in the rhythm of the engines. From the tilt of Sha’re’s head, he could see she did as well. “Sha’re, brace yourself,” he said, matching his actions to his words as he spoke.

To her credit, Sha’re braced herself before asking, “Why?” But despite her best efforts – and Teal’c’s outflung arm – the sudden deceleration of the ship sent her crashing into the bulkhead.

 

Jack saw Carter’s head tilt. “Sir, something’s –“

Before she said another word, the wall on the other side of the hallway suddenly got way closer, way fast. Just before he hit the wall, Jack managed to turn his head so that the thick part of his skull (and to hear both his mother and his ex-wife tell it, it was _very_ thick) hit the wall instead of his nose. 

“What the hell was that?” Jack asked, scraping himself off the bulkhead.

Carter pushed herself up off the floor. “My best guess is that the ship just decelerated out of light speed.”

Great. He pulled up the sleeve of his Jaffa uniform to look at his watch. “The timer’s still got almost two and a half hours to go. Let’s hope they’re just stopping to pick up snacks,” Jack said. “Blowing up this ship _after_ it destroys Earth would be a waste of perfectly good C-4.” He set off down the hall.

“Sir, do you really think we can find Teal’c and Sha’re just by roaming around the ship?” Carter asked him.

A door in the hallway slid back, saving him from having to answer. The door was too close. They’d have a second, max, to fire before whoever came out realized they weren’t Jaffa. Jack held his staff weapon at the ready. He could feel Carter slide into position right beside him.

Instead of the expected Jaffa walking out in front of him, a grenade flew through the air, falling at his feet. _M67_ , his brain immediately classified. 

The adrenalin hadn’t even had time to kick in before Jack started moving. Like he had at a million puck drops, he slapped the thing with the tip of his staff weapon, flipping it away from them. He watched the puck – the explosive, lethal, military-issue puck – fly down the hall as he threw himself to the ground. It ricocheted off the wall at the end of the corridor, angling down the left-hand side of the T intersection like some great minigolf shot. He hit the floor covering his head, Carter’s elbow sticking in his gut.

Even from around the corner, the M67’s 14-meter blast radius packed a hell of a punch. Shrapnel came flying down the hall, embedding itself in Jack’s hands and pinging off the metal helmet he wore. He had to give Apophis props; the armor they wore did a pretty good job of deflecting the chunks of grenade casing that were flying at them.

As soon as the dust had settled, Jack looked up. “You’re supposed to yell ‘frag out!’ first!” he hissed.

Teal’c limped out of the room, followed by Sha’re. “Colonel O’Neill. Captain Carter. I hope you are both uninjured.”

“No thanks to you,” Jack said. Carter reached down, pulling him to his feet. He eyed the swollen lumps just starting to bruise on Sha’re’s cheek and chin, the scorch marks on the torso of Teal’c’s uniform. “You two are looking a little worse for wear.”

“We met Apophis,” Teal’c said.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t go so well, I take it?”

“He’s dead,” Sha’re said flatly.

 _Shit_. “Right,” Jack said. Sha’re seemed pretty calm. He remembered what that kind of shock was like. He just hoped she stayed in that state until after they got off Apophis’ ship.

“Jack, we must go back and destroy the sarcophagus. If we do not, the Jaffa may use it to resurrect Apophis,” she said.

“This whole ship’s going up in…” Jack looked at his watch “two hours and twenty-three minutes. Even if he does come back, he’ll be vaporized pretty quickly. We’ve saved the Earth – now let’s save ourselves.”

Teal’c and Sha’re looked at each other. “Have you also disabled Klorel’s ship, O’Neill?” Teal’c asked.

“Klorel’s ship?” Carter gaped.

“For once, can’t something just be _easy_?” Jack said.

Beneath them, the floor shook.

“Teal’c, are we going into hyperspace again?” Carter asked. 

Teal’c looked around, perplexed. “No. That is not the shift a ship makes when going into hyperspace.” The ship shook again. He raised one hand to the wall to steady himself. “If I did not know better, I would say we were under attack by a powerful warship.”

“Attack?” Carter said. “Earth doesn’t have anything that could stand up to this ship.”

“Maybe some other Goa’uld decided to take on Apophis,” Jack said.

Teal’c shook his head doubtfully. “Ba’al or Sokar may have developed the technology to battle against this vessel, but they would not have had the time or resources to create something of this magnitude.”

Boots echoed in the hall. “Okay, enough chatting,” Jack said. “We need to get off this ship before it blows up, and take care of Klorel’s while we’re at it. Teal’c, got a way to get us over there?”

“If we can find a way to the ring transporter, we should be able to board Klorel’s ship. But that area will be heavily guarded on both ends.”

Jack nodded. “We’ll blow up that bridge when we come to it. Just get us there.” He picked up his staff weapon, then gestured at Sha’re and Teal’c. “Walk in front of us with your hands behind your heads in case we run into any Jaffa,” he said. “And try to look like you can’t put up a fight.”

“That will not be difficult,” Teal’c said. With a pained grimace, he gingerly moved his arms to assume the position.

Teal’c and Sha’re limped down the hallway. Sha’re was favoring her left leg, while Teal’c’s shoulders were hunched in toward his chest in a way that worried Jack. He hoped that whoever was attacking them managed to dispatch Klorel’s ship; Jack didn’t think they were in any shape to take care of it themselves. He just hoped they’d manage to snatch Skaara off the ship before it was all over.

As they came to a junction in the corridor, Jack saw two Jaffa rounding the corner. He looked at them, trying to convey a Teal’c-like gravitas as he nodded. He expected them to nod back. Instead, both Jaffa leveled their weapons at the team.

“Looks like it’s not workin’ this time,” Jack growled under his breath, firing his staff weapon at the Jaffa as Sha’re and Teal’c dropped to the floor. The Jaffa ducked around the corner, shouting something Jack couldn’t understand for the life of him.

“Fall back!” Jack shouted. They backed up the hall, Jack and Sam firing all the way. A couple of the staff blasts their enemies fired around the corner came uncomfortably close to Jack’s ankles. Finally, they backed around the corner. “What the hell did that guy say?” Jack asked.

The voice that spoke behind him was not the bass thunder he was expecting, but an equally resonant baritone. “ _Obi-tan! Shel no rak!_ ”

 _Halt, hands up!_ sounded the same in any language – in tone, if not in actual syllables. Jack and Carter both put their hands up and turned around.

Staring at them over the business end of a staff weapon was Bra’tac.

“Hey, there,” Jack said uncertainly.

“Hello, old friend,” Teal’c said from behind Jack. “It is good to see you.”

“And you,” Bra’tac said, lowering his weapon, a giant grin on his face. Jack should’ve known the old Jaffa would be loving this. “You have done a masterful job of sowing dissent and disarray among the enemy. You make an old man proud.” He looked up and down the hall, then gestured to them. “We must move quickly.”

The team hustled alongside Bra’tac and a younger Jaffa, olive-skinned with a rangy build. Soon Bra’tac pulled them into a small alcove.

“When I heard that Apophis would attack this planet, I worked hard to regain his trust,” Bra’tac said. “As we traveled here, I sowed suspicion between the warriors of Apophis and Klorel. Once we arrived at the planet, I planned to lead a group of warriors in Klorel’s name against Apophis.”

Teal’c nodded. “A wise plan. Many Goa’uld are overthrown by their children. It would be easy to believe.”

“Easier still when two people steal in to Apophis’ very sarcophagus room and leave him dead on the floor,” Bra’tac said, smiling and clapping Teal’c on the shoulder. Teal’c’s face got paler at the hearty slap, and his lips pressed together briefly. Bra’tac gripped Teal’c’s shoulder. “Although you have succeeded a little too well in your attempts at disarray, I think – Apophis’ men shot at me even before I attempted to begin the battle.”

Jack looked at Sam. “Is _that_ why those Jaffa were shooting at us?” he asked.

“You wear the armor of Apophis,” Bra’tac said. “I came around from behind to dispatch you. It was only when I saw Teal’c that I realized who you were.”

“So your plan was, have Klorel and Apophis shoot at each other until they wiped each other out,” Jack said. “And how long would that take?”

“Half a day, at least,” Bra’tac said. “The two ships are equally matched, and without Apophis to lead his men, their strategy will also likely be equal.”

The ship rocked once again. Jack put one hand on the wall to brace himself. “Say one of these ships suddenly exploded. What happens then?”

“The victor would conquer your world, and would not have to share the spoils,” Bra’tac said. “Why do you ask?”

Jack looked at his watch. “Because unless they succeed in mutual assured destruction in the next two hours and eighteen minutes, Klorel’s gonna get a nice graduation present.”

“You have found a way to blow up this ship?” Bra’tac said.

Sam nodded. “C-4. It’s a very powerful explosive.”

“Have you any more of this C-4?” Bra’tac asked.

Jack nodded, patting Sha’re’s backpack. “Don’t suppose Klorel’s ship has a Stargate,” he said.

“No,” Bra’tac said. “Is one required to trigger this C-4?”

“No, but we do need it to magnify the explosion,” Sam said. “Unless we use it strategically.” She thought for a moment. “I know these ships use energy fields to preserve hull integrity and keep the atmosphere inside the vessel. Can you get us to where those systems are controlled?”

“What are you thinking?” Jack asked.

“Sir, some of these rooms have pretty large windows. They must be using energy fields to keep outer space out. If we can take down the power, even for thirty seconds, a great deal of the atmosphere will vent into space.”

“It will also allow Apophis’ weapons to penetrate Klorel’s shields,” Bra’tac said, smiling. “This is a fine plan.”

“Can you get us on board?” Jack asked.

“Getting you on board will be easy,” Bra’tac said. “Getting us off this vessel – that is the difficult part. Apophis’ Jaffa now think that Klorel’s Jaffa are the enemy.” He surveyed the battered SG-1 team before him. “But I believe I have a plan.”

 

Af’kar ordered his fellow Jaffa in Apophis’ _pel’tak_ to fire as soon as they saw the flash of armor from Klorel’s Jaffa. Soon their god would rise again from his sarcophagus – but in the meantime, they needed to destroy the _ha’taaka_ who attempted to take Apophis’ power for Klorel. Af’kar hoped he would be rewarded for the heads he laid at Apophis’ feet.

From outside, a voice rang out. “ _Hal mek_ , you fools! I am on a mission from Apophis!”

Af’kar and his fellow Jaffa looked at each other, confused. “I know that voice,” another warrior said. “It is Master Bra’tac.”

“Indeed, it is I,” Bra’tac called out. “Did you have so little faith in your god that you did not think he knew this would come to pass? _Shek kree_!”

Af’kar eyed him warily. “My lord Apophis knew his son would try to attack him?” he asked.

“Of course!” Bra’tac said. “Why else would he insist I serve his son? He wished me to watch Klorel, and destroy him once I saw proof of Apophis’ suspicions. But the _shol’vah_ –“ Teal’c stumbled into the corridor, hands tied behind his back “– and his woman –“ a dark-haired, battered woman tumbled out after Teal’c, crashing against him “–attacked my lord Apophis before I could warn him from whence the treachery would come. I bring them back now to Klorel’s ship so I can execute them before his very eyes. Then I and my loyal men aboard that ship shall hold Klorel until Apophis comes aboard to kill him. Slowly.” Bra’tac’s voice lingered over that last word.

Af’kar licked his lips. “We must wait,” he said. “We must confirm your story once Apophis rises from the sarcophagus.”

“Fools!” Bra’tac said. “Apophis will expect to find Klorel at his feet once he is restored. Would you make him wait?”

Afkar heard the man beside him take a breath to agree and turned to him, shaking his head. “He is the one who trained the _shol’vah_ Teal’c. How can he be trusted?” he said.

“You can trust me,” said the young Jaffa who stood by Bra’tac’s side, walking forward. “Af’kar, you have known me since we were small children. When your mother was sick, my mother was your wet nurse. I tell you,” he said, his baritone powerful with emotion, ”Bra’tac speaks the truth.”

The other Jaffa turned to Af’kar. “Well?” the third whispered.

“It is true. I have known Kal’vel since we were small.” His lip curled in a sneering smile. “And he has never been able to lie. More than once did I find out where he kept some sweetmeat or trinket that I wanted, because he could never hide the truth from me. I do not even know how the weakling joined Klorel’s service.” He stood up, gesturing his companions to do the same. “You may pass,” he said.

Kal’vel and Bra’tac walked forward, two other Jaffa mostly obscured behind the prisoners. The group of six stepped on to the ring platform. “Kal’vel,” Af’kar said with a smile, “be sure to tell Apophis of how we assisted you.”

“I will be sure he knows,” Kal’vel said, as the rings dropped around them.

Af’kar leaned back as the rings flew back up to the ceiling. He looked forward to the commendation he would receive when this mission was over.

 

Jack did his best to keep his head down as they materialized on Klorel’s ship. “These vile beings are behind the attacks on our vessel,” Bra’tac said, grabbing Teal’c by the arm as he spoke. “I bring them to my lord Klorel so that he may deal with them.”

Klorel’s Jaffa, looking intimidated, nodded. Quickly, Bra’tac hustled the group out of the room.

As they made their way down the corridor, Jack walked next to Kal’vel. “Nice job back there,” he said.

“Thank you,” Kal’vel said with a grimace. Jack pegged the dark olive-skinned kid as whatever the Jaffa equivalent of nineteen was; his limbs still seemed just a little long for his body. “It would have been more honorable to kill him where he stood.”

“More honorable, or more satisfying?” Jack asked.

Kal’vel smiled, his black eyes flashing. “Both,” he said.

They stopped at the end of the corridor. “The area at the end of that juncture will be guarded,” Bra’tac said. “Kal’vel and I will remove them quickly. Then you can plant your explosives.”

“Carter, you set the explosives,” Jack said. “Put a timer on it for –“ he looked at his watch “–fifty-three minutes from now. That’ll blow it just three minutes before the charges on Apophis’ ship. Teal’c, Sha’re, we’re gonna go rescue Skaara.”

Sha’re turned away, her face contorting into an ugly frown. “No. We cannot rescue Skaara. The best thing now is for him to die.”

“Sha’re,” Jack said, grabbing her arm, “don’t give up on him. He’s your brother.”

“Yes! And Daniel was my husband!” Sha’re said angrily, her voice low and venomous. “I had Apophis at my mercy for a moment. For a moment. Daniel asked me to kill him, and I hesitated.” Her fists clenched. “He nearly killed Teal’c. And he would have killed me. Or worse.”

Stubbornly, Jack pushed back. “We can save him.”

“No, we _can’t_ ,” Sha’re said. “Jack, he’s my brother. If it were possible to rescue him, do you not think I would do it?” She stared into his eyes, and he saw the rage and despair in hers. “At this point, death will be a mercy to him,” she said. 

“Mercy,” Jack said tersely. “Right.” He turned to Bra’tac. “All right. Show us where to plant the C-4.”

 

Sam knew immediately that they didn’t have enough C-4 to blow up the power plant for the ship. But with Bra’tak and Kal’vel’s help, she quickly identified a large and crucial power juncture. By knocking it out, she thought – she hoped – that the resulting energy cascade would overload the rest, knocking power out long enough for their plan to succeed.

“All right,” the Colonel said, looking at his watch, “we’re down to 18 minutes. How far are the death gliders from here?” he asked Bra’tac.

“Only a short distance,” Bra’tac said. “That is why we chose this area to sabotage. A great deal of power is needed to preserve the atmospheric integrity of the glider bay, and keep the gliders in dock.”

“Right. Carter, set the timer, and we’ll run like hell.”

Sam pushed the timer into the C-4, and pushed the button at the base to turn it on.

Nothing happened.

She pushed the button again.

Still nothing.

“Carter,” O’Neill said, looking over her shoulder, “do we have a problem?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Sam said anxiously, pulling the timer out and flipping it over, quickly grabbing her tiny screwdriver set from her pocket and opening it up. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said as she saw what lay inside. “Sir, the chip in here is cracked.”

“Well, can’t you just glue it back together?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “No, sir. Even with a clean room and some very specialized tools, I don’t think I could get this working again. Damn it!”

“We’ve got the radio transmitter,” O’Neill said. “We’ll trigger it from the death glider bay.” He turned to Bra’tac. “How close did you say that was, again?”

“Sir, it would have to be really close. These walls are dense. Our radio transmitters won’t reach more than four hundred, five hundred feet at _most_ ,” Sam said.

“Roughly one-half the width of a standard death glider bay,” Teal’c clarified to Bra’tac.

Bra’tac nodded soberly. “We are at least four times that distance from the death glider bay,” he said. He extended one hand. “Give me the transmitter. I will trigger the explosion.”

“And get out of here how, exactly?” Jack said.

“I am an old man,” Bra’tac said with a smile. “If my last act is to destroy Klorel’s vessel, than at least I die free.”

Sam did quick math in her head. “Sir, only two people can fit in a death glider,” Sam told O’Neill. “And none of us know how to fly one. Teal’c, Bra’tac and Kal’vel all have to survive if the rest of us are going to get off this ship.”

Colonel O’Neill pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hand me the transmitter,” he said, holding out his hand.

Sha’re shook her head, pushing his arm aside. “Daniel died once to keep you from killing yourself to destroy a Goa’uld. I will not let you do this. Skaara is my brother. I will set off the explosion.”

Teal’c interrupted, “Jaffa physiology is stronger than that of humans. I may be able to trigger the blast and run to the death glider bay before it is too late.”

“Teal’c, you are injured,” Sha’re said harshly. “You could not run even if you wanted to.”

Sam shook her head. She’d never seen so many people fighting over who got to be the one to die. “If this works right, we’re talking explosive decompression. Even if you make it to the glider bay, Teal’c, you’ll be sucked right out into space.”

Kal’vel coughed. “ _Tec’ma’te_ Bra’tac, I have a suggestion,” he said quietly, looking gawky and awkward. “We could use Klorel’s _tel’tak_ vessel. Its bay is well within the distance you describe.”

“A _tel’tak_ would be large enough to take us all,” Teal’c said.

“But this _tel’tak_ will not move if Klorel is not aboard, and alive,” Bra’tac said. “It is coded to his DNA. To take it, we must have Klorel with us.” He smiled at Kal’vel. “This is a bold idea.”

Sha’re looked sick.

Jack looked at his watch. Fourteen minutes left. “Fine. You,” he said, pointing at Kal’vel, “take Carter to the _tel’tak_ bay. If we’re not there in fourteen minutes, blow the ship. The rest of us are going to kidnap Skaara.”

 

The plan was terrible, Sha’re thought, and everyone knew it. Skaara would recognize Jack even under the armor, which meant Klorel probably would too. His Jaffa would be on their guard against any intrusion. And privately, Sha’re didn’t think that Jack would be able to hurt Skaara, even knowing it was the monster inside that controlled him.

It was a bad plan, but it was the only one they had.

Teal’c and Sha’re stood again as prisoners, with Bra’tac in the lead and Jack taking up the rear, full of menace.

“I must see Klorel immediately,” said Bra’tac. “I bring prisoners that have come to attack the ship.”

The guards parted to allow the group admittance into the control room. Klorel was surrounded by his Jaffa. Sha’re eyed the swarthy, beetle-browed Jaffa nearest her, wishing she had more weapons than just the knife strapped to her leg.

Klorel turned, looking at Teal’c and Sha’re with a sneering smile. Since he was born, Skaara had been a constant torment to Sha’re, always teasing or getting into trouble, but her brother had never looked at her like that. “The _shol’vah_ and the woman,” Klorel said, walking toward them. “At last.” His gaze passed from them to Jack. His double-take was almost comical.

Before he had the chance to cry out, Jack charged him. The Jaffa guard next to Jack was faster, swiping his staff weapon to bring Jack to his knees. Teal’c elbowed the nearest warrior in the face, shoving him off guard as Bra’tac brought down two near him. Weapons fire filled the room. Bra’tac ducked. Teal’c took a hard blow to the head from another Jaffa. Sha’re caught the edge of a _zat’nik’atel_ blast as she lunged at another warrior and spun, falling against a console. 

She looked up to see Klorel leaning over Jack, an evil sneer on his face, hot beam of light blazing from his palm to Jack’s forehead. 

“Skaara, my brother!” she said pleadingly, sliding toward him. “You must stop!”

Klorel did not even glance at her. “Your brother cannot hear you,” he said.

“Good,” Sha’re said. And then she stabbed him in the shoulder.

The beam of light stopped. Jack fell to his hands and knees. Klorel looked up at her, eyes wide and filled with pain. “Sha’re?” he asked. It was her brother’s voice. “My sister, what have you done?”

Quickly, she got behind him, one hand still on the hilt of her knife, still buried in his shoulder, her other arm around his neck. “I have stabbed him once,” she called out to the Jaffa that surrounded them. “I will do it again. Let us pass, or your god will die.”

The Jaffa stared silently at her. One by one, they put their weapons up.

Jack and Sha’re exchanged a look. Wordlessly, he took her place, grabbing Klorel and dragging him out of the room, taking a moment to rip the ribbon device off his hand and throw it to the floor. She grabbed Teal’c by an arm, helping him up, shouldering half the big man’s weight. She crushed the ribbon device under her heel as she left the room. Bra’tac followed behind, threatening all the Jaffa with his staff weapon.

They ran.

 

Sam stared at her digital watch, then at the door to the _tel’tak_ bay. Her team had ten seconds to go. Nine. Eight. Seven.

She swallowed. It didn’t look good. She looked at Kal’vel. “We did our darndest,” she said.

He smiled. “And we die free.” His smile turned wry. “Although, between you and I, I would have preferred to live free a few years longer.”

Sam, caught completely off guard by the lanky Jaffa’s humor in such a dire moment, laughed. “Me, too,” she said. Two. One.

Sam pressed the button.

The door opened. The team ran through, battered and bloodied. Sha’re held Teal’c up. Bra’tac was in the back, covering their rear. The Colonel was in the lead, half-dragging Klorel.

In the distance, she heard an explosion. The lights flickered. 

“ _Move!_ ” Sam shouted, racing to the door of the _tel’tak._

Faster than she’d ever imagined the Colonel could run, he was at her side, and the door to the _tel’tak_ was whooshing open. He raced in, throwing Klorel on the floor. She and Kal’vel were right on his heels. “Man the controls!” she shouted to Kal’vel. He raced to the front of the ship. She could hear it powering on.

The lights flickered again. Sha’re and Teal’c staggered in. Sam looked out the door to see Bra’tac, hit by a staff blast, fall to the floor just steps from where she stood.

“No!” she shouted. She raced through the door, grabbing Bra’tac under the arms and dragging him toward the cargo ship. Before she could get there, the lights went out. She staggered as the air was sucked out of the giant cargo bay in a rush, about to take her and Bra’tac with it. She tried to get a breath, but she couldn’t; there wasn’t enough air left. Objects flew through the air, barely missing her and Bra’tac. She watched a Jaffa go sailing past her, limbs thrashing as he flew through the cargo bay and out into deep space. Despite the chaos, everything was eerily quiet.

Sam ducked the debris that flew at them as she dragged Bra’tac toward the door. She lost her grip on his right arm and looked down to see a piece of metal slicing through the armor around Bra’tac’s arm near the shoulder, through the flesh, down through the bone. It had already sliced through her fingers, she realized; the top joints on her middle two fingers were gone, which was why she’d felt she was losing her grip. Suddenly the metal flew higher into the air, dragging one corner across Bra’tac’s chest as it was sucked toward the portal. Bra’tac’s arm, clinging by a thin line of flesh, threatened to go with it. Sam grabbed at it desperately.

Something had her by the waistband of her pants, dragging her. She held on to Bra’tac with both hands, her damaged right hand suddenly coming to life with pain, and  tried to dig her heels in and help whoever had a hold of her. An inch, another inch – and suddenly there was an audible _pop_ as she entered someplace with atmosphere. She and Bra’tac fell through the doorway onto the floor of the _tel’tak_ , landing on top of Sha’re and Jack.

“Go, go, go!” the Colonel shouted, right behind her. From Sam’s position on the floor, she could see through the front window of the _tel’tak_ as it moved forward through the cargo bay. She applied pressure to Bra’tac’s arm, trying to stop the bleeding, ignoring the pain of her two missing fingertips.

A section of roof above them plummeted like a falling dagger, about to spear the cargo ship. Kal’vel slammed the controls in front of him, and the _tel’tak_ pitched sharply to the right. The collapsing ceiling blocked almost the entire opening of the cargo bay, leaving only one narrow gap on the right side, far too small for the _tel’tak._

A narrow crack opened in the wall of the cargo bay, at the edge of the gap. Kal’vel aimed straight for it. The crack widened. Kal’vel didn’t slow. Shuddering, with a ferocious scraping sensation, the _tel’tak_ punched through the gap, heading out into open space.

“Which way should I go?” Kal’vel asked frantically.

“Far and fast and don’t hit anything!” Jack shouted. “We’ve got forty five seconds before Apophis’ ship blows.”

Kal’vel scanned the controls. “We have no hyperdrive!” he said. The ship shuddered. “Taking incoming fire!”

Teal’c dragged himself to his feet and staggered to the controls. “Apophis’s ship fires upon us. Our shields will not hold for long.”

“Just get ‘em to hold for thirty-four more seconds,” Jack said. 

Bra’tac’s eyelids fluttered. With his one good hand, he clutched at Sam’s arm and drew her close. “You must shut down the rings,” he said. “Or, when the shields drop, Apophis…” He coughed.

“What do I do?” Sam asked.

Bra’tac pointed at the wall shakily. “The panel…” he said. 

Sam ran to the wall, slamming her hand against the inset square Bra’tac had pointed at. A tray slid out of the wall, full of what looked like pieces of crystal. She stared at them uncomprehendingly, then looked to Bra’tac. But he was unconscious – or worse.

“Shields are failing,” Teal’c said.

A hum ran through the ship – the hum of the rings about to activate. Sam didn’t have time to think. She grabbed with both hands, ignoring the pain, pulling out as many crystals as she could and throwing them hard against the floor. Shards went everywhere. The hum of the rings suddenly cut out.

The image of the two _ha’tak_ vessels on the viewscreen vanished. Apophis’ face replaced it, full lips sneering, brows drawn down, blue eyes angry and cold. “ _You will return my son now,_ ” he said angrily. “ _And Sha’re. Or I will destroy your vessel._ ”

“You’ll kill us either way,” Jack said. “What do we care?”

A smile ghosted over Apophis’ lips. “ _You do not know the pain you will suffer if you do not return them now._ ”

“That’s nothing like the pain you’re gonna suffer in three…two…one…” Jack said.

Apophis’ transmission had cut off before Jack’s sentence finished. Their screen once again showed the two Goa’uld vessels. Suddenly, the lower right hand corner of Apophis’ ship exploded. They silently watched as explosions cascaded throughout the ship, blowing out the side closest to Klorel’s battered vessel. Klorel’s vessel collapsed as the debris struck it.

“My father will destroy you for this,” Klorel spat from the corner, clutching his wounded shoulder. “He will come for me.”

“No,” Sha’re said. “He will not. Apophis is dead. Soon you will be nothing but a memory, and Skaara will be free.”

Klorel laughed. “You Tau’ri do not have the ability to remove me from this body. Not without killing the host that is so precious to you.”

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” the Colonel said. His eyes darted around the room, surveying those on board.

“Sir, I need the med kit,” Sam said. “Bra’tac is hurt pretty badly.”

Sha’re immediately shrugged off her backpack.

“He should die!” Klorel spat. “The _shol’vah-_ “

Teal’c turned, slowly walking toward him, staff weapon aimed straight at his chest. Though he was ashen, his weapon held steady. “You and your kind have ruled over us for too long. You claim you are gods, yet it only took a handful of us to defeat you. Where are your powers now?”

Klorel flung his hand out, as if to attack Teal’c with the ribbon device. But his hand was empty, and nothing happened.

“Not much without your little toys, are you?” Jack said. “Teal’c, keep an eye on him.” He took the first aid kit that Sha’re offered and sank to his knees beside Bra’tac, pulling out a bandage. “The artery’s still intact. How the hell did it slice off almost his whole arm and miss the artery?”

“Luck, sir,” Sam said.

Teal’c spared a glance to look at Bra’tac. “To lose a limb is worse than death for a Jaffa,” he said. “Bra’tac will not want to survive if he must lose his arm.”

“They can reattach it,” O’Neill said, “so long as we can keep him alive.” Sha’re dropped to her knees beside him, and together they worked to tie off the wound.

As Sam moved her hands out of the way so they could bandage Bra’tac, she heard O’Neill’s breath catch. “Shit. Sorry, Carter,” he said, looking at her damaged fingers.

“It could have been a lot worse, sir,” she said, as Sha’re tore off strips of gauze and grimly wrapped them around her friend’s wounded digits. “Another few inches, and my new nickname would be Stumpy.”

The Colonel’s lip curled slightly at the joke. From the front of the plane, she heard Kal’vel snort in amusement. “Carter, are you in good enough shape to raise the SGC on the radio?” Jack asked.

“I think so, sir,” she said. “If Kal’vel can tell me how to set the frequencies, I should be able to bounce the signal off a satellite.”

O’Neill nodded. “Good,” he said. “I think Hammond’s gonna be happier about us landing a UFO at Peterson if we give him the heads-up first.” He looked down at Bra’tac. “Make sure they have a surgical team standing by. We’re gonna need it.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet treats the survivors of the battle with Apophis. With the help of her friends, Sha're copes with the aftermath of what happened to her on their mission. With Klorel a prisoner of the United States Air Force, Jack and Sha're advocate for Skaara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hammond looked at her with sympathy. “I’m afraid it may take several weeks. As you know, Klorel has a great deal of information that could be of value to us. They need to get that information – or be assured they will not be able to get it – before the President will allow removal of the Goa’uld.” He put one hand on her shoulder. “You will be allowed to visit your brother on a regular basis until then.”
> 
> “Sir, Skaara’s just a kid,” Jack said. “Isn’t there something in the Geneva Convention about this?”
> 
> Hammond shook his head, smiling slightly. “Jack, you know as well as I do that the Goa’uld aren’t signatories to the Geneva Convention.”

Shortly after the mysterious explosions in space at around two AM, residents in Colorado Springs reported a bright, unknown object flying in to Peterson Air Force Base. Official reports claimed it was an experimental weather balloon. One dedicated UFO spotter sent a blurry photo of the oddly-shaped object to MUFON, but the editor decided it was too obviously a fraud and refused to print it.

Janet buried her anxiety as the ship landed, barking orders as she led her team inside. “Surgery’s already prepped. Dr. Bennet’s waiting for him,” Janet said as they lifted the unconscious Bra’tac onto a stretcher. “Get his blood type,” she ordered a nurse as they wheeled the cart out. A very pretty, lanky young man in Jaffa armor followed him. “He’s with us,” Sam shouted, as if it needed any clarification.

“Don’t take your eyes off him for a minute!” she heard Colonel O’Neill shout, gesturing at a figure on the floor. In the corner, four SFs surrounded a young, olive-skinned man with dreadlocks as two of her nurses tended to him. He clutched at his shoulder, eyeing them with a vicious look. Janet gestured another gurney up the ramp. “Strap him down,” she said. “And bring him to Dr. Warner.”

As they moved the cart out of the alien vessel, all power on the ship suddenly cut out. Janet looked at Teal’c, wobbling on his feet, and waved another gurney in.

“I am able to walk,” Teal’c said.

“I should let you try,” Janet said warningly. “Get on the gurney, Teal’c.”

Teal’c blinked once, nodded, and let the nurses help him on. Janet wasn’t sure why he always followed her orders when she gave him the hairy eyeball. She wondered if she reminded him of his mother. He glanced at Sha’re as he got on the cart, looking worried.

Janet noticed Sha’re’s eyes drifted a little bit before locking on him, taking an extra half-second to arrive at their destination. She saw something in Teal’c’s face, saw the hitch in Sha’re’s step, and immediately knew what happened. As Sha’re followed Teal’c’s cart out, she made a mental note to have Sha’re placed in a private examination room when she did her check-up.

Sam directed several SGC technicians to various consoles. Janet saw the makeshift bandages wrapped around the two foreshortened fingers on her right hand. She grabbed Sam by the wrist.     

“It’s fine,” Sam said, shaking her off. “I need to be here. I’ll come in when I can.”

“No,” Janet said. “Crisis is over, Captain Carter. You need medical treatment, now.”

“Don’t worry, Carter,” Colonel O’Neill said, turning to her. “This ship isn’t going anywhere, except maybe into a hangar. I promise we’ll save it for you.”

“And what about you?” Janet said, looking at the Colonel.

He shook his head. “Just a few bumps and bruises,” he said. “I’ll be in once I make my report to Hammond.”

As Janet led Sam out of thealien ship, they passed General Hammond. “Good work, Captain Carter,” he said as he walked by, clapping her once on the shoulder, nodding to Janet.

“Good to see you, General!” O’Neill said heartily behind them. “Sorry about going AWOL. But we brought you a present.”

The infirmary in building 959 would have seemed like chaos to the untrained eye, but Janet, looking around, saw her team working with the utmost speed and efficiency on several different medical situations. Janet kept an eye on everything, giving orders when needed as she took care of the severed tips of Sam’s fingers. Eventually she’d need surgery, but it would have to wait until Dr. Warner or Dr. Bennet was ready. As she finished treating Sam, she grabbed a nurse by the elbow and asked her to put Sha’re into a private examination room.

When she came in, Sha're sat on the examination table wearing a blue robe that tied in the back, her knees pulled up to her chest. A livid bruise had formed on her right cheek, another one on her chin, and there was a bloody bite mark on the side of her neck. Where the hospital clothes didn’t cover her, Janet could see first and second degree burns splotching her legs.  Her BDUs lay crumpled on the floor, and Janet could see bloodstains on the white underwear that were in the pile. _Oh, no_ , she thought, but retained her outward businesslike, slightly detached air.  She’d had to do plenty of sexual assault exams in the military, even a few on friends. It was always awful.

“You should be with Bra’tac. Or my brother,” Sha’re said angrily.

“Dr. Warner’s a far better surgeon than I’ll ever be, and Dr. Bennet is an expert on limb reattachment. I need to take care of the other injured members of the team, and that means you,” she said. She rested a hand on Sha’re’s shoulder.  "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Sha're stared at the wall.  "No."

Janet closed her eyes for a moment, hating to push. “I believe you were sexually assaulted up there. Am I right?”

Sha're's voice was tight, and her eyebrows drew together, the way they did whenever she got angry. Around her knees, her knuckles went white.  "Yes.” 

“Okay,” Janet said. She knew Sha’re well enough to know the other woman would probably fly into a rage if Janet pussy-footed around. “Here’s what happens now. I'm going to have to examine you, to see if you’ve sustained any injuries or damage. It’s a very similar exam to the annual exam you received shortly after you arrived here." And Janet needed samples. It was an alien population. God knew what kind of STDs those Jaffa had. At least she could skip the evidence collection portion of the exam. Whoever had done this, he was very likely dead. “Do you want Sam here while I do this?”

“No,” Sha’re said, brows lowered. “She has her own troubles. Let us just finish this as quickly as possible.”

Janet settled Sha’re down, putting her feet in the stirrups. Even before she turned the light on, Janet could see that Sha’re would need stitches. Sha’re’s breath got faster; Janet could see her hand clench on the side of the examination table. “I promise,” Janet said, “I’ll make this as quick as I can. I’m getting out the speculum now.”

Janet looked up, worriedly gauging Sha’re’s condition. The other woman stared at the ceiling, stone-faced. Pressing her lips together, Janet began to slide the speculum in.

Sha’re let out a gasping sob. Her whole body shuddered. Janet immediately pulled out the speculum, dropping it on the instrument table, and grasped the hand of her crying friend. “Sha’re,” she said, squeezing the other woman’s hand tightly in support. “It’ll be OK. I’m going to get Sam.”

Between sobs, Sha’re nodded, her crumpled face soaked with tears.

Janet slipped out into the main exam room, where the bustle and noise blocked out any leaking sound of Sha’re’s sobs. Next to Teal’c’s bed, Sam looked up, her worried eyes meeting Janet’s. At Janet’s gesture, she walked over. Colonel O’Neill, on the other side of Teal’c’s bed, began to stand, but Janet shook her head minutely at him. He sat down, dark eyes drilling her. After all this, Janet would have to report to him what happened to Sha’re. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

“What happened?” Sam asked Janet anxiously. “Is she OK?”

“Sha’re was sexually assaulted,” Janet said in a low voice.

“Oh, God,” Sam said, cornflower eyes wide.

“I have to examine her. Can you…”

Janet didn’t even have to finish the thought. “Absolutely,” Sam said.

When they got back in the room, Sha’re was curled up with her knees to her chest. She had managed to pull some shreds of calm around herself.

“Hey,” Sam said, her voice warm and full of compassion.

Sha’re’s voice wavered. “Hey,” she said. “I imagine Janet told you.”

“Yup,” Sam said, sliding into a chair next to the exam table and taking Sha’re’s hand. “I’m here, and Janet’s here. It’s going to be OK.”

Sha’re began crying again as soon as her feet touched the stirrups, intermittently managing to calm herself as Sam murmured comforting words to her. Janet wanted to be there for her, but it was more important to work as quickly as possible. She focused on what she was doing, taking quick swabs to send to the lab and stitching up the damage. She wanted to treat the burns on Sha’re’s legs, but would wait until her friend could at least have the dignity of fresh underwear. 

“You can sit up now,” Janet said, disposing of her gloves in the medical waste bin. As Sha’re sat up, Janet walked over to the shelves, scanning until she saw the medication she was looking for. She filled a paper cup with water, put a small white pill in the palm of her hand, and turned back to Sha’re.

"Here,” Janet said, handing her the pill and the water. “This is for now. There will be another one tomorrow morning. It’s to prevent conception. It's standard procedure."

Sha’re’s hand flew over her stomach protectively. “No,” she said stubbornly, her eyes welling up. “This is all of Daniel I have left.”

Sam’s blue eyes went wide. “Oh, God!” she said heart-wrenchingly.

Janet was slower on the uptake. It took a moment before she understood what Sha’re’s words meant. To her credit, she didn’t drop either the water or the pill. She took a deep breath, breathed out, and then placed the pill in Sha’re’s palm, closing her fingers around it. “Sha’re, Apophis has taken over Daniel’s body,” she said firmly. “If you did get pregnant, we have no way to know if the child would be Daniel’s, or if it would have some of Apophis’ genetic material.”

Sha’re looked sick. Without another word of protest, she swallowed the pill, washing it down with the cup of water on the tray. Sam’s face crumpled as Sha’re swallowed. She reached up to stroke her friend’s hair. Sha’re’s lower lip began to quiver, and she dropped her forehead to Sam’s shoulder. 

Janet turned around for a moment, tidying up the lab samples on the desk, giving the two women their privacy. According to medical protocol, she needed to keep her distance, though all she really wanted was to console Sha’re. She wouldn’t have even taken this on in the first place, but the only other female MD at the SGC was Dr. Brightman, who had the bad timing to be on Gizak, and she was damned if she was going to let Sha’re be seen by a male doctor after what had happened. 

When she could hear that Sha’re and Sam were calmer, Janet sat on a chair next to the examination table.  "Sha're, I need to tell you – I'm required by Air Force regulations to inform both Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond of what's happened to you.  If you wanted to tell them yourself –"

Sha're closed her eyes tightly and shook her head.  Janet winced a little bit.  She was glad to protect Sha're from the experience, but she knew it wasn't going to be any fun to tell them.          

“You’ll also be required to attend sessions for psychiatric care,” Janet said, trying to be as gentle as possible. “At present, the only doctor attached to the SGC with the requisite qualifications is –“

"Dr. MacKenzie,” Sha’re said, grimacing. “Yes, I'm sure he'll have a foundation to understand my issues.  I'm sure there's women all over the planet who get raped by a monster wearing their husband's body."

Janet thought of her ex-husband Frank, and nights full of Jack Daniels and too many cigarettes.  She patted Sha're on the shoulder.  "More than you think, sweetie.  There's more than one reason that I got a divorce."

 

General Hammond stood in front of the cell, his cherubic face full of righteous wrath. “Lieutenant Colonel Samuels had the unmitigated gall to try to have Klorel transferred out of here to some CIA shadow prison in the interests of _national security_ ,” he said to Sha’re and Jack.

Fear fluttered in Sha’re’s stomach. “He didn’t –“

“No,” Hammond said, smiling tightly. “After this little incident, the President is favorably disposed toward us. And apparently some Washington prostitute dropped the credit card receipts from one Senator Kinsey for her services on the DNC’s desk yesterday.”

“And that’s why you should always pay cash,” Jack said. “Awfully convenient timing, isn’t it, sir?”

“If it had been a little more convenient, we never would have had to go through that blasted meeting in the first place,” Hammond said. “Let’s hope it gets rid of Kinsey for good.” He turned to Sha’re. “In order to keep your brother here, I had to make some concessions. You will be able to take your brother to Cimmeria only after Klorel has been thoroughly questioned,” he said apologetically.

“How long will that take, sir?” Sha’re asked.

Hammond looked at her with sympathy. “I’m afraid it may take several weeks. As you know, Klorel has a great deal of information that could be of value to us. They need to get that information – or be assured they will not be able to get it – before the President will allow removal of the Goa’uld.” He put one hand on her shoulder. “You will be allowed to visit your brother on a regular basis until then.”

“Sir, Skaara’s just a kid,” Jack said. “Isn’t there something in the Geneva Convention about this?”

Hammond shook his head, smiling slightly. “Jack, you know as well as I do that the Goa’uld aren’t signatories to the Geneva Convention.”

Sha’re sighed, rubbing her face with one hand. “Jack, you know they are right,” she said. “If Skaara holds within him some piece of information that is key to defeating the Goa’uld, we cannot afford to throw it away. And we can at least reassure him that soon he will be free.”

“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” Hammond said, shaking his head. “For the interrogation to be successful, Klorel must have some hope that he will survive. You must not say that we have a plan to remove the Goa’uld.”

Sha’re felt sick. “You mean I must leave my brother in there with no hope?”

“Can we at least say we’re working on a way to transfer Klorel into another body?” Jack asked.

“I’ll ask,” Hammond said. “Let’s see if the interrogators want to use that as a bargaining chip.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “In the meantime, the two of you have permission to see him.”

Behind the bars of the cell, Klorel sat on the low bench, staring at them with hatred, reminding Sha’re that, for all his outward appearance, the being in control of the body in front of her was not Skaara. If it had been Sha’re’s brother, he would have paced his cage like a trapped animal instead of sitting with eerie stillness. 

“Hello, Skaara,” Jack said.

Klorel looked at them with a sneering smile. “He cannot hear you,” he said. “Nothing of the host survives.”

“We know that is a lie,” Sha’re said. “We know of hosts that took control of their own bodies. Someday, Skaara will do the same.”

“Never!” Klorel shouted. “This is _my_ body. And when Apophis finds me, you will all pay dearly for what you have done.”

“Apophis is dead,” Jack said. “No one is coming for you. And if you don’t cooperate with us, we can make life much more unpleasant for you.”

Klorel folded his arms. “You would not do so. You would not want to hurt the host.”

“You said nothing of the host survives,” Sha’re said. “If that is the case, why would we wish to avoid harming you?”

Klorel’s eyes narrowed.

“Let us talk to Skaara,” Jack said quietly.

Klorel gave them a disgusted look. Then his face transformed. The look of mingled fear and hope was one Klorel’s face would never wear. “Shau’ri?” he cried out, staring at his sister.

Her brother had been the only one unwilling to call her by her new name, defiantly calling her by her birth name even when all others had abandoned it. She had hated it. He had done it precisely because she had hated it. This one time, she did not mind. Her eyes stung. “It is I, my brother,” she said, reaching one hand through the bars to grasp his.

He smiled, glowing with happiness as he took her hand. Then, suddenly, his grip became tight, crushing. He pulled hard, yanking her to the bars, his smile a hostile mockery of joy. She slammed against the bars. One of his hands wrapped around her throat, the other grabbing her long hair and yanking her head back.

“I will break her neck if you do not let me free,” Klorel snarled, his hand cutting off her air.

“No, you won’t,” Jack said tightly, reaching forward and grabbing his wrist. 

Sha’re couldn’t see what he did next, but Klorel screamed and his hand went limp. He dropped his grip on her wrist, and she slipped from his grasp, backing up until she was against the wall, well out of Klorel’s reach. 

“For one thing,” Jack continued, shoving Klorel backwards, “your angle was all wrong.”

“You will never get him back!” Klorel shouted, spittle flying out of his mouth. “You will _never_ get him back! Apophis will come for me, and then you will pay! You will _all_ pay!”

“Keep thinkin’ that, buddy,” Jack said, taking Sha’re by the elbow and opening the door. “See you real soon.”

As soon as they got out the door, Sha’re leaned against the wall, hand rubbing her throat. She cursed herself for once again letting her guard down around a Goa’uld. How stupid could she be?

“You all right?” Jack said.

Sha’re fought back the prickle of tears. She might cry later, in her own quarters, but not in the halls of the SGC. Right now, she just wanted to go to the gym and hit something. “I will be fine. He did not press hard enough to injure me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jack said tersely. She looked up to see his dark eyes on her, worried.

“Yes, Jack, I know that,” Sha’re snapped. She couldn’t take Jack’s empathy, not right now. Maybe later, over a beer, when she could cry where no one else in the SGC would see. But not now. “I will be fine,” she repeated tensely.

“Right,” Jack said. They began walking back down the hall. “You don’t have to go back to see him,” he said.

“I do,” Sha’re said, voice harsh. “My brother is trapped in there. I cannot abandon him. I will not make such a stupid mistake again.”

Jack grabbed her arm, turning her toward him. “Sha’re, stop pulling this tough act. You’ve been through a lot. Let us help you.”

Sha’re shrugged off his touch, warding him off with a gesture. “I thank you for your kindness,” she said coldly. If she was not cold, then she would break. “But right now, I would like to be alone.”

“Sha’re,” Jack said.

She cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Just –“ she said, looking at him angrily. Then, abruptly, she turned away, stalking down the hall, leaving Jack staring after her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam helps Sha're perform Abydonian rituals associated with mourning. Jack braces himself for bad news from Sha're. Sha're writes a letter to Daniel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teal’c nodded, looking at the empty spot on the couch where Sha’re normally sat. “This base has a number of free rooms. And soon there will be one more. Sha’re Jackson has told me she will not be living here much longer.”

Yesterday, Sha’re, surrounded by a protective shell of anger, had asked to be left alone for a day, part of some Abydonian mourning custom. Before she’d secluded herself, she’d asked Sam to come to her door thirty-six hours later, and to bring scissors and some food and water with her. Sam, as usual, arrived at the door to Sha’re’s quarters five minutes early. She leaned against the wall, grocery bag on the floor, staring at her digital watch as it counted down. At precisely thirty-six hours from the moment Sha’re had made her request, Sam knocked on the door.

After a few seconds, Sha’re opened the door. Her eyes were sad, but she smiled when she saw who it was. “Hello, Sam,” she said. The angry undercurrent that had colored her voice since their return from Apophis’ ship was gone.

“Hey,” Sam said, stepping inside. When the door closed, she put down the bag and opened her arms. Sha’re stepped into them, wrapping her arms around Sam’s waist and resting her head on Sam’s shoulder. Sam held on to her for several minutes, stroking her hair.

“Thank you for coming,” Sha’re said, stepping back. She reached into the bag, took out the bottle of Evian, and took a long drink. Then she took out the scissors. “On Abydos, when a woman’s husband dies, her hair is shorn.” She licked her lips, looking nervous. “We ask our closest friends to do this for us. I would like to ask you to do it.” She held the scissors out to Sam.

“But your hair is so beautiful!” Sam exclaimed, looking at the thick, wavy mass of dark hair that hung most of the way down Sha’re’s back.

Sha’re smiled wanly. “Then it will be beautiful short,” she said. She looked down. “Also – Apophis grabbed my hair when we were on the ship.” She squared her jaw, looking up. “I could not move. I will never let that happen again.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded. _Most victims of rape make major changes to their lives afterwards,_ Janet had said to her. _Be ready for it. Help her if you can._ But she hadn’t expected that help would include actually cutting her friend’s hair off. Sam took the scissors, took a lock of Sha’re’s hair in her hand, and then took a deep breath. “Sha’re, are you sure you want me to do this?” she asked.

Sha’re smiled. “You are my closest friend. And it is not required that it look nice, only that it be cut.”

Sam grinned. “It’s not that. You remember what happened the last time we were at Janet’s, and she asked me to dice tomatoes, right?”

Sha’re paled.

“Right.” Sam put the scissors down. “I think we need to Americanize this tradition. We’re going to the salon.”

An hour later, Sha’re sat in a salon chair for the first time, her hair pulled back tight in a braid. The stylist held up the braid, and Sam sheared it off at the base. As Sam sat next to Sha’re, keeping her company, the stylist chopped away. In just a few minutes, a short, efficient pixie cut framed Sha’re’s face. Something about it made Sha’re look older and more serious.

“Do you like it?” Sam asked, as Sha’re turned her head back and forth, looking in the mirror.

“Yes,” Sha’re said, reaching up to feel the short, almost stubbly hair at the nape of her neck. “Yes, I think I do.”

 

Bra’tac reached forward, taking another slice of pizza from the box with his left hand. His right arm rested on the arm of the couch, a compression sleeve showing beneath his borrowed fatigues. “Say what one might about the _Tau’ri_ , but they have certainly mastered the culinary arts. What is this called, again?” he said, folding the slice in half with his one good hand.

“This style of pizza is called ‘Hawaiian,’” Teal’c said. “It is named after a race of warriors who explored the oceans of this world using nothing but small, open wooden vessels called canoes.”

“You are saying they were ill-equipped, and yet succeeded at something far beyond what their technology should have allowed?” Bra’tac said, raising one eyebrow as he took a bite of his pizza. He chewed, then swallowed. “It appears this is a common habit among these people.”

Teal’c chuckled at the joke. Kal’vel, on the other side of the rec room’s coffee table, did not. “The _Tau’ri_ appear to have much technology that we do not, _Tec’ma’te_ Bra’tac. Look at what they have done to reattach your arm!”

Bra’tac turned a serious look on the young warrior. “You do not need to defend your new friends to me. I am well aware that, were I under Apophis when this happened, I would be without an arm unless he granted me a spot in his sarcophagus. Their medical abilities are significant.” He smiled as he took his next bite of pizza. “And Apophis’ master torturer could learn a lesson from these _physical therapists_. Unfortunately, there is no information that I can give to stop their torment.” He swallowed from a can of club soda. “Over these next hundred days, as they help me regain the use of my arm, I will have a chance to know these _Tau’ri_ almost as well as Teal’c, here.”

Teal’c smiled at Bra’tac. “It will be good to have you here, old friend.” He turned to Kal’vel. “I will be sure to look after our teacher when you return to Chulak.”

Kal’vel looked uncomfortable. “Yes,” he said. “On the subject of my return to Chu’lak –“ His black eyes darted from one Jaffa to the other, his dark olive skin paling. “I would like to remain here with the _Tau’ri_ ,” he said, all in a rush.

“What?” Bra’tac said, shocked. Teal’c raised an eyebrow, startled, but much less surprised than his teacher. 

Kal’vel licked his full lips. “The _Tau’ri_ have skills and strategies that are very different from ours.” With a pleading look, he turned to Bra’tac. “You have said that for the Jaffa to overthrow the Goa’uld, we must have surprise on our side. But how can we surprise them when all the tactics we use are those we have learned from them?” The last shreds of confidence in his delivery began to wilt under Bra’tac and Teal’c’s stony looks, but he continued. “I would like to stay here and join one of their squads, as Master Teal’c has. After a year or two I would return. We could use the knowledge I gain here to help build our rebel Jaffa.”

Bra’tac looked at Kal’vel sternly. Kal’vel ducked his head, looking at his plate. “I am sorry, Master Bra’tac. I spoke out of turn. I should never have suggested such a thing.”

“I would never have expected this of you. Of all the things you have said over the years…” Bra’tac began forcefully. Kal’vel still stared at his plate. Only Teal’c could see the twinkle in Bra’tac’s eye. “…this is the wisest and most forward-thinking I have heard.”

Kal’vel’s head snapped up.

“You are right,” Bra’tac said. “All that we know, we have learned from our Goa’uld masters. If we are to succeed, we must learn new ways of doing things, ways they will not expect. But I did not expect a stripling such as yourself to think of the future like this.” As Kal’vel’s mouth hung open, Bra’tac addressed Teal’c. “Do you think Hammond of Texas will agree to such a plan?”

Teal’c considered this. “The _Tau’ri_ seek allies across the galaxy, and desire to have more warriors in their ranks with thorough knowledge of the Goa’uld. I believe this idea would be well received by General Hammond,” he said. “Kal’vel, you would be required to live in quarters here. For the first several months, until you gain their trust, the only times you will go outdoors are when you go offworld.”

Kal’vel nodded. “I am prepared for that,” he said.

“I must caution you, _Tau’ri_ culture is sometimes hard to fathom. Their sense of humor is odd,” Teal’c said.

Bra’tac sighed. “So is Kal’vel’s,” he said wearily, with the tone of the long-suffering teacher. “But do they have enough space to house him long-term?”

Teal’c nodded, looking at the empty spot on the couch where Sha’re normally sat. “This base has a number of free rooms. And soon there will be one more. Sha’re Jackson has told me she will not be living here much longer.”

 

Jack slouched down the hall toward Sha’re’s office. He was dreading the upcoming conversation. He hadn’t talked to Sha’re since their last, hostile conversation in the hallway outside Skaara’s cell. When she told Jack she had some big life thing to discuss with him, he knew what was coming next.

In his head, he marshaled every argument he could against Sha’re returning to Abydos. But he already had a bad feeling. Once Sha’re had an idea in her head, it was impossible to move her off course.

When he popped his head in her door, Sha’re was staring at her computer screen, chewing on one thumb. The bruises on her face were still livid, but slowly fading. Though he’d caught a glimpse of it in the halls yesterday, he was still startled by the short crop she sported. “Hey,” Jack said. “You need me to come back later?”

“No,” Sha’re said, looking nervous. “Now’s as good a time as any, I think.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll just say it. Jack, I want to become a US citizen.”

Jack stared at her for a minute. “Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“What did you think I wanted to talk about?” asked Sha’re.

Jack shrugged. “I came down here to talk you out of moving back to Abydos.”

“What? _What?_ ” Sha’re asked incredulously. “Why would I ever want to go back to Abydos?”

“I dunno,” Jack said, waving his hands in the air. “Maybe because half the reason that you had for signing on to the team just got vaporized, and the other half is gonna be ready to head back there pretty soon. Some bad stuff happened to you up there. I figured maybe you wanted to go home.”

Sha’re leaned back in her chair, flipping a pen between her knuckles. “Jack, Abydos doesn’t have pizza.”

“See, that was argument number six,” Jack said. “Pizza. You can’t get it on Abydos. Also hockey.” 

“Hockey…” Sha’re waggled one hand back and forth. “That is not so convincing. But the pizza, the pizza is the symbol for why I wish to stay.”

Jack shook his head, spinning a rolling chair so the back faced Sha’re and straddling it. “A tasty, tasty symbol,” he said.

Sha’re rested her head against the back of her chair, staring at the ceiling. “On Abydos, to prepare a pizza would take a full day, at least. Just grinding the flour alone would take hours. It’s the same for any food. It takes a great deal of effort, and there is so much energy spent on survival that very little is left to allow one to pursue anything else.” She looked at Jack. “Why would I want to go back to a place like that?”

“Because you wouldn’t get shot at or kidnapped, you wouldn’t have to catch weird alien bugs…”

One side of Sha’re’s mouth quirked up. “Do you mean diseases, or those cockroach worms Dr. Quellhorst had us fetch?”

“Both,” Jack said. 

“I don’t know,” Sha’re said, a smile spreading across her face. “Slithering around in those tunnels, trying to tackle semi-sentient insects that were half our size…”

“While Quellhorst kept yellin’ at us not to bruise them,” Jack added in.

Sha’re’s brown eyes lit up as she grinned. “It was kind of fun, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” Jack said grudgingly. “So,” he said, slapping the back of his chair. “You want to become a citizen.”

“Yes. My concern is that regulations state I must live in the country for five years minus ninety days, and must be physically in the country for half that time.” She stared back at her computer monitor, and chewed at her thumb once again. Her brows drew down as she frowned. “I am not sure how going off-world affects this.” 

“Sha’re, you just helped save the planet. I have the feeling the President’s still in a generous mood,” Jack said. “I think he’s gonna make the whole process a lot quicker for you.” 

“Good,” she said, smiling. “Then I can vote against Senator Kinsey all the sooner.”

He gestured at her computer monitor. “So is that what you were doing when I came in?” he asked. “Looking stuff up about immigrating on the Internet?”

Sha’re smiled sheepishly. “Actually, I was looking at houses.”

“You can _do_ that?” Jack said in surprise as he scooted around the desk to get a look at her screen.

Sha’re nodded. “They say that in five years people will buy houses online without ever visiting them. There are a number of websites with listings. Realtor.com, HomeStore, HomeSeekers, HomeWeb, HomeAdvisor…”

“I’m sensing a theme here,” Jack said. He looked over her shoulder. “No, you don’t want that one.”

“Why not?” Sha’re asked.

“Too small,” Jack said.

Sha’re smiled. “Jack, I am not a large person.”

“Pretty soon, your brother’s gonna be living with you, at least for a while,” Jack said.

“And we are used to living together in a very small space,” Sha’re said. “My couch – when I buy one – will be far more luxurious than anyplace Skaara has ever slept.”

“Sha’re, I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but someday you’re gonna want to get married again. You’re gonna want to have kids.” He gestured at the little one-bedroom cottage she was looking at. “No one wants to buy a one bedroom house! Well, except, obviously, you.”

She gestured at the screen. “I want someplace small,” she said. “Places that are too large make me uncomfortable. Also, because it took me around six months to really understand money, I didn’t spend much of what I was earning, and as Senator Kinsey pointed out, I also accrued quite a bit of money from the Air Force because Daniel was considered a prisoner. I could buy a small home outright.”

“You know,” Jack said quietly, “you’ll also be getting money from the government for Daniel’s death. He was still considered an employee of the Air Force.”

Sha’re shrugged. “When I get that, I want to use it to fund some archaeologist with a crazy theory. I think Daniel would have wanted that.”

 

Later that night, Sha’re sat on the bed in her quarters, back resting against the concrete wall and feet propped on the desk in what was by now her habitual writing position. More now than ever, she could feel the weight of the mountain pressing down on her. She looked forward to the day when she was in her own home, when she could sit at a desk and stare out the window as she wrote. The ring that Daniel – her dear, forever lost Daniel – had given her on Abydos still shone on her toe.

She opened her journal, staring for a minute at the photo inside the flyleaf. She’d secretly printed a freeze-frame from the video of the other universe’s Daniel and taped it into her diary. In the image, he looked serious and intent. It was as close as she would ever get to a photo of her own Daniel. She reached out a finger as if she could touch him through the image. Then she turned to a blank page and began to write.

> _Dear Daniel,_
> 
> _I feel hollowed by my Daniel’s loss, yet I am glad he is now at peace and no longer suffering as the host to Apophis. A part of me takes comfort in the fact that somewhere, in some other universe, there is a Daniel who is on a mission like my own, who is exploring the galaxy with a team like my own._

She paused for a moment in her writing, reaching up to clasp the dog tags, that other Daniel’s dog tags, that hung around her neck. 

> _I cannot help but address my thoughts to you, Daniel. You understand what I do here at the SGC, what I am feeling. You know what it is like to search for a spouse subsumed by the Goa’uld. Though I have lost my Daniel, it comforts me to know that there is a Daniel only one universe removed that is still searching for his Sha’re. We spent so little time together, and yet I miss you. I hope that someday we will meet again, and you will have been more successful in your fight to get your Sha’re back than I was in trying to find my Daniel._
> 
> _In some other universe, there must be a Sha’re and Daniel whose lives were never touched by Amaunet and Apophis, who still live joyfully together on Abydos. While it warms my heart to think of them, I will not be returning to Abydos for anything but a brief visit. That Sha’re – who would be very much as I was before my Daniel was taken – was in many ways happier. But her world was so small! I regret the things that happened to bring me here, but I do not regret being on Earth or becoming a part of SG-1. There is so much I can do here. There is so much still to learn._
> 
> _I think, had I not met you in that place between our universes, I might have considered returning to Abydos and following the path of the dutiful widow. I would feel it disrespectful to stay a part of life after losing my Daniel. But meeting you showed me that my Daniel would not want me to close myself off after his loss. I miss Daniel. I dreamed of sharing this life with him. The time we had together was too short. But if my Daniel could see me, he would be proud of me for what I have done, for what I am doing. He would want me to continue. He would think that what I have done is only the beginning. He would love the woman that I have become. And I will love him always._
> 
> _The best way for me to remember Daniel is to continue learning. He would have wanted that._
> 
> _Love always,_
> 
> _Sha’re_

Sha’re closed her journal, placing it on the desk. She took Daniel’s journal, turned out the light, and curled up under the blankets, holding it to her chest. It wasn’t really _her_ Daniel’s journal – it was the journal of the Daniel in the other universe – but it was as close as she would ever come to having something tangible that was connected to him.

Tears slipped from her eyes as she tried to go to sleep. She had written brave words to the other Daniel. She would mourn the death of her Daniel, but she would go on. She would have a full life.

But she would always regret that Daniel was not there to share it with her.


	14. Chapter 14

Dr. Danita Washington began to hyperventilate. Everything in the SGC women’s locker room was going black around the edges. Quickly, she sat down on the bench and put her head between her knees, forcing herself to take deep, slow breaths, just like she’d always told her panicking fellow doctoral candidates to do in the botany program at UC-Davis. She’d secretly looked down on them because of their weakness. She was starting to wonder if her own panic attacks were some sort of karmic payback for mocking them.

Putting her head between her knees helped, but not much. Danita pressed her lips together, willing her heart to stop pounding, telling her body that this was unacceptable. She’d gotten this far in life by staying calm, no matter how bad things got. The SGC was a bigger opportunity than she’d ever imagined. While the academic world clamored for scholars who focused on incredibly tiny niches, the SGC needed generalists with a broad understanding of their field, especially in botany. She would never again have a chance like this. There was no way she was going to let her body betray her and send her back to a lab research career track. 

Danita heard footsteps echoing in the hall and sat up, ordering her rebellious body to calm down _immediately_. It didn’t work; her anxiety just got worse. As the door opened, she once again put her head between her knees, and braced herself for a caustic lecture on how she needed to pull herself together.

“Whew!” the woman’s voice said. “I an very glad to see you. I thought I was late.” Her words had a hint of some accent, just enough to make her sound foreign. 

Behind her, Danita heard the woman open up a locker, then a banging noise. She looked up to see the dark-haired woman hopping around on one foot, yanking a thick-soled Mary Jane off the other and tossing it in the locker. It took Danita a minute to place the frazzled, trendily-dressed twentysomething. Then Danita placed her. Yesterday, in the briefing room, the other woman had been in standard SGC fatigues and had seemed calm, composed, well-informed and a little intimidating. She tried to remember the other woman’s name. Johnson, Anderson – something bland and strangely Anglo for the Latina-looking woman. 

As Danita stared, the other woman met her eyes and smiled ruefully as she shimmied out of her low-rise jeans. Danita tried not to stare at the pale burn scars on the woman’s thighs as she began talking. “I was looking at a house downtown, and it seemed the whole city had decided to take Highway 115 when I was leaving. I probably should not have scheduled the viewing for a day with an offworld mission, but the realtor said there was somebody else interested in the house.”

“They always say that,” Danita said. She tried to sound casual, but the words came out strained.

The other woman smiled, quickly reaching her hands behind her head to grab the back collar of her camisole top and yank it off. Her short dark hair stuck up every which way. “You are Dr. Washington, correct?” she asked.

“That’s me,” Danita said. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“I’m Sha’re Jackson,” she said, extending one hand for a handshake. Danita found it odd to shake hands with someone wearing only underwear, but Jackson didn’t seem to notice. 

Jackson smiled, stepping into her fatigue pants. “We both share our names with former American presidents who were also generals. It should make it easier to remember. Are you excited for your first trip offworld?”

Danita felt her breathing speed up again. She put her head back between her knees.

“Are you all right?” Jackson asked. She sounded genuinely concerned. Danita felt Jackson’s hand gently touch her shoulder. “Would you like me to call Dr. Fraiser?”

Danita shook her head emphatically. “What am I doing going offworld?” she said suddenly, the words escaping before she could shut her mouth. “I’ve never been out of the country. I haven’t even been to _Canada_.”

“I understand how you feel. I have not been to Canada either,” Jackson said, sitting down next to Danita. Danita felt the other woman’s hand gently stroking her upper back. “Technically, on this planet, I have never left the state of Colorado.”

“I figured you were from Latin America, Dr. Jackson,” Danita said, slowly sitting back up.

Jackson shook her head. “Just call me Sha’re,” she said. “I am not a doctor. And I am from a planet called Abydos,” she replied, pulling on her boots. “So technically, I am an alien in every sense of the word. But I will be taking my naturalization test in a few weeks.”

Sha’re’s odd sense of humor got on Danita’s nerves. “How can you understand how I feel?” Danita said. “You came from another planet. You have no idea what this is like.”

Danita expected the other woman to snap back, but she just grinned. “When I first came here, I spent twenty minutes in Jack’s bathroom turning the faucets on and off. I had never seen indoor plumbing before.” Sha’re pulled a field cap on over her short dark hair. “I thought delivery from Pizza Hut was nothing short of a miracle. On our first real mission, we came out of the Stargate into a forest. I had never seen trees like that before. I was so _freaked out_ –“ the words came out with an odd bit of emphasis, as if Sha’re was speaking a foreign tongue instead of uttering a colloquialism “- that I didn’t hear anything Jack said to me for the next five minutes.” She smiled, putting one hand on Danita’s shoulder. “But it gets easier.”

They left the locker room, walking down the hall. Danita was still a little annoyed at the other woman’s blithe cheeriness, but thought she could at least learn something. “So, what’s this planet like?” she asked.

“Aota?” Sha’re said. “It has a lot of trees, and a large ocean. Jack said it reminded him of Big Sur. Have you ever heard of that place?”

It was the last thing Danita had expected to hear. “I grew up near there, in Fresno,” she said, as she got on the elevator with Sha’re.

“Jack always complains that the worlds we go to aren’t alien enough. I was glad to hear you are a botanist. I am hoping you’ll find a plant that will prove him wrong,” Sha’re said.

As the doors closed, Danita realized with surprise that she wasn’t scared anymore.

 

Sha’re’s shoulders loosened as the doors opened. The smell of the Gate room, a mix of concrete, metal and whatever kind of grease Siler was using on the gate nowadays, was familiar and comforting. It had been a tumultuous three weeks since their last mission; it felt good to be going offworld again. 

“Ah, Sha’re. Found our lost little lamb?” Jack asked.

Sha’re could see Danita’s cheeks reddening, despite her dark skin. “Dr. Washington was leaving the locker room when I was coming in. I gave her some tips, such as _beware of man-eating cows_.”

She heard a hearty chuckle. Major Dixon, the leader of the new SG-13 unit, turned away from his conversation with Lieutenant Lorne, Captain Carter and Kalvel to look at her. The man seemed to a presence as big as any three people. “A man-eating Holstein? You gotta be kidding me.”

“I said the same thing, while it was chasing me off a cliff,” Jack replied.

Sha’re grinned, then turned to Danita, who was looking a little gray again. “Man-eating cows?” she said, her voice as tight as the bun her hair was in. 

“Don’t worry,” Sha’re said, patting her on the shoulder. “There was only one, and we ate it for dinner.”

“The steaks really are tastier when the cow’s been trying to kill you,” Sam said, walking over and smiling. She extended her hand to Danita. The stitches were out of Sam’s two fingers now, but the foreshortening was noticeable, as was Danita’s double-take.

“Manicuring accident,” Sam said with a shrug and the quirk of a smile. 

Sha’re exchanged a quick glance with Sam, and Sam nodded. Sha’re moved away, letting Sam take over newbie scientist duties for a few minutes. She looked around the room and noticed that, while Kal’vel stood near Major Lorne, Teal’c was standing as far away as possible from the young Jaffa, steadfastly ignoring him.

Sha’re drifted over to Kal’vel. “I believe Teal’c is still upset about your hair?” she asked, unable to resist a smile.

Kal’vel ran one hand over the stubbly black hair on his scalp. “He and Bra’tac feel I am rejecting Jaffa tradition. But it was a tradition Apophis forced upon us, not a tradition of the Jaffa.”

“I’ll talk to him while we are on Aota,” Sha’re said, quickly squeezing his arm.

Lieutenant Lorne grinned at him, his bright blue eyes twinkling. “Don’t ever argue with your teachers about tradition. You’ll learn that when you get older.”

Sha’re and Kal’vel looked at each other. She could see Kal’vel’s black eyes crinkling at the corners. “You haven’t told him how old you are?” Sha’re asked.

Just like Teal’c, Kal’vel raised one eyebrow, but he could not summon up the same deadpan attitude or gravitas that the elder Jaffa wore so naturally. “I am a mere child of forty-eight,” Kal’vel said. 

Lorne’s eyes widened.

“All right, kids!” Jack said, clapping his hands together twice. “Coffee klatsch is over.” He looked up at the control room. “Sergeant Harriman, fire it up!”

“Sorry I was late, Jack,” Sha’re said, for his ears only, as they arranged themselves in preparation for their walk through the Gate. “But I think I found the house.”

“Really?” Jack said, glancing at her. “When do I get to look at it?”

Sha’re sighed ruefully, gazing at the Stargate as it twirled. “Before I make an offer, so you can ensure I’m not making a terrible mistake?” she said.

“Exactly,” Jack said.

The Stargate burst into life, the event horizon cascading into the room before settling into a shining puddle in the middle of the stone ring. Sha’re turned and saw Danita’s mouth slightly open, the blue of the Stargate reflected in her dark eyes. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Sha’re asked.

“It’s amazing,” Danita said quietly, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

The rest of the two teams began moving toward the Stargate. Sha’re gave Danita a quick nudge with her shoulder. “Going through it is even better,” she said.

Danita quickly shook herself, nodded at Sha’re, and followed her teammates up the ramp.

Sha’re adjusted the straps to her backpack, slowly making her way toward the Gate behind Danita. She remembered being just as scared – even more so – last year when she went through the Stargate to Aota in hopes of finding Daniel and Skaara. It seemed absurd now, as did her original plan to go home to Abydos once the task was complete. She once again breathed in the comforting smell of the Gate Room, overlaid with something cold and sharp that she thought of as the scent of the event horizon itself, and looked at her team.

Abydos wasn’t home anymore. This was.

“Care to join us, Sha’re?” Jack said, glancing back at her.

Sha’re grinned. “I can’t wait,” she said. She ran up the ramp to join her teammates. Together, they stepped through the event horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> It takes a village to make a story - at least this one. Thanks to Cofax, Katie_m, Raven, Fenriss, Quinn and Kuwdora for being amazing betas. Thanks also to Fenriss and Kuwdora for fantastic cheerleading throughout, to Random for giving me some cheerleading when I really needed it, and to Lyssie and Paian for telling me over and over that they were looking forward to reading it. Thanks to Dominant7 for letting me corner him in the kitchen repeatedly to ask for help when I was stuck on a plot point, and to Kuwdora for sitting patiently in the dining room and talking things out with me when I was stuck. Thanks to Arduinna's Stargate SG-1 Handbook, an invaluable reference as I wrote this story. Thanks to everyone who patted me on the head when I made desperate and whiny LJ posts. Huge thanks to Dominant7 for doing the HTML coding. And last but sure as heck not least, thanks to Synecdochic and Helens for running an awesome ficathon which got me to finally write the first third of the story I've wanted to tell for five years.


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